


Forms Of Estrangement

by Illuminahsti



Series: Forms of Estrangement [1]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Jane Austen Fusion, Ballroom Scene, Canonical Character Death, Dysfunctional Family, Happy Ending, Kanagawa Dysfunction, Mystery, Other, Past Juno/Peter, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Sarah Steel being Sarah Steel, Sarah leaves after ch 1, Slow Burn, Suggested Cassandra/Juno, Suggested Cecil/Juno, Suggested Peter/Cecil, costume drama, nothing explicit for any of them, persuasion au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-10-21 03:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17634959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illuminahsti/pseuds/Illuminahsti
Summary: Juno Steel has lived in the shadow of his family name his entire life. He was trained from birth to conduct himself the way a Lord of North Star should. Ten years ago, he left the love of his life because of their difference in station.Now, he has returned from his time in the army worn down and still unmarried. His brother is dead, his mother is bereft, and his estate is falling into ruin. He is about to sell himself to the Kanagawa Entertainment Empire to clear his family’s debts when Peter Nureyev returns with a new name, a new career, and new money. Now Juno must decide between rekindling an old romance and once again doing what is best for his family.Part of the 2019 Penumbra Mini Bang Event. This fic will update every other day until the end of February.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to [breathingrivers](http://breathingrivers.tumblr.com/) for the phenomenal art for this story. I can't stop staring at it. Please go follow them and shower them with love!

Image ID: A poster of Juno, Cecil, Cassandra, and Peter. Juno is at the bottom, he is wearing a dark cape with a gold epaulet and an eye patch. Cecil and Cassandra stand behind him. Cecil is wearing a white suit and has white hair. Cassandra is wearing a low cut white dress and has long dark hair. Peter is above them, looking menacingly over his shoulder, and half of his face is in shadow. He is framed by the Mask of Grimpoteuthis, which is a grey amorphous shape with gold leafing that shows three faces with open mouths and large fangs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: Sarah yells at Juno and says canon-level horrible stuff to him. If Sarah Steel isn't your thing (and who could blame you) you can skip the whole section that starts "Despite the daunting stack of bills," and still follow the story. After this chapter it gets much closer to a S1 mystery romp in tone.

The Earl Sarah Steel of North Star Estate was not a woman much inclined to self reflection, but she was a woman greatly occupied with her own importance; it was for this reason that her primary concern as a mother and as an Earl was to protect the name and reputation of her family, and to raise her sons in the same regard. Often, when she had observed some perceived slight upon her family name, it brought her pleasure to pull out the Book of Names for the Aristocracy of Mars and read her family entries. The Steel name could be traced to the second era of the city, and her grandfather had always claimed that the family long predated the rearrangement of the aristocracy under Empress Denemaus, but so few records had survived the Great Dissolution that there was no way to prove his claims. To Sarah Steel’s satisfaction, however, there was no way to disprove them either.

With centuries of the Steel name to uphold, Sarah had raised her sons to be men of honor. She named them after goddesses and told them stories of noble princes and heroes, using fairy tales to raise her sons, both tales of the great hero Alexandra and tales of great Steel ancestors who had upheld the honor of their house.

Juno Steel took those tales into himself and lived with them as a guidebook. He saw Hyperion City as his to defend; as a member of the aristocracy, Juno had the responsibility to defend the less fortunate in the city, to set an example for others, and to adhere closely to the expectations and values of a well behaved landlord.

Benzaiten Steel internalized those same tales and saw them as a challenge. A prince and a hero sought glory and served as an inspiration to lesser men; as a well trained and educated man, it was Ben’s responsibility to lead others.

Ben was everything Juno wasn’t: charming and flashy, a generous friend, and he was loved by their mother. Sarah Steel lavished love and gifts on her favorite son and sent him out into the world, full of optimism and with a smile for everyone he met.

* * *

So it was that both Steel children went into the galactic navy; Ben went for the glory, eager to help others and just as eager for praise; Juno went because Ben did and because he was expected to. They rose through the ranks quickly, Ben on charm and easy leadership, and Juno through dogged determination.

One year into their time with the navy, Juno was transferred to a Brahman outpost. He distinguished himself there as a capable Lieutenant, eager to support those stationed under him. He received several medals of valor, which he dutifully sent home to his mother.

Two years into his time in the war, Juno was brought under the command of General Puck. They offered Juno something he had never before had, a genuine affection based only on who Juno was, and not what Juno represented. They worked together closely, their respect equal in proportion, and Juno threw himself into the friendship, eager to forget past regrets.

It was then that Juno discovered that Puck sold weapons to the rebel colonies in the asteroid belt, which extended the war on both sides but turned a tidy profit.

Juno not only refused involvement, but exposed the corruption.

Juno was sent home in disgrace, without his position or his honor.

Three months later and four planets away, Benzaiten was sent home in a box.

* * *

Sarah did not take the news well, and Juno took her rage without complaint, sure that her anger was justified. If he had been by Ben’s side, then Ben may have lived, and if Juno had held the proper respect for Puck’s rank, he would not have dishonored his family.

With Sarah unable to manage the estate, it fell to Juno to take on the mantle of head of the family. He arranged the funeral, responded to the influx of sympathy, and locked his emotions away. He passed a dark winter managing a decade of paperwork that Sarah had neglected. It was in this way that Juno discovered the depths of his mother’s vanity, which had eaten up all of the pay that he and Ben had wired home. The tenant’s rent had been spent on credit past the next year's income. Their accounts at the milliners, dressmakers, and grocers were past due.

While he spent time sifting through bank statements and bills, the debt only grew deeper. The funeral bill could not be paid for, and neither could their mourning clothes. They were left with a family name that was worth no money and with no way to make more.

* * *

Despite the daunting stack of bills, it took Juno a week to steady his stomach enough to speak to his mother. He spent the week following his usual routines, buried in paperwork and carefully setting his schedule opposite of Sarah’s so that they never crossed paths within the large and sprawling manor house.

Finally, Sunday came, and Sunday dinner was served as it had been every week, as if their life still followed the expected schedule, and Juno could avoid the dreaded confrontation no longer. He laid the facts out as clearly as he could, although his voice trembled, but it seemed that Sarah barely heard him anyway. She pushed her cloned beef hash around her plate listlessly and did not make eye contact with Juno. She had lost weight over the winter, and she rarely bathed now, seemingly trapped in her own nightmare.

“Are you listening, mother?” Juno demanded. A note of frustration crept into his rough and disused voice. “I have no money to pay your bills with.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have lost your position, then.” Her voice had lost its vitriol after weeks of the same admonitions. Instead, she repeated herself dully, as if it was the only thing she had left to say, as if her disappointment in Juno was the only thing she remembered about him.

“That’s not the point,” Juno ground out between clenched teeth. “You racked up this debt long before I was dismissed, and now we have to fix it.”

“You have to fix it,” she said. “This is your fault.”

“You could get a job.”

“I _can’t_ ,” she snarled. She seemed to wake finally, at the notion of losing her position. “I am a Steel, I cannot simply go and earn wages in the city like some commoner. We have nothing left but our name, you saw to that.”

“If you won’t, then I will, but you need to curtail your lifestyle all the same.”

“I forbid it. We cannot let others think we have no means.”

“But we do have no means.” Juno shook his stack of papers at his mother. “They won’t know anything but the truth.”

“That does not mean we should show our shame to the world. We are worth more than that.”

“We are worth nothing! If you had looked at a single bill in the last two years, you would know that.”

“If you had not lost your position, we would not be in this situation,” Sarah snarled back. “Now you cannot even take a navy commission on Mars.” She wound her long braids around her hands and tugged, making herself look even more on edge. “You’ve put this all on me, as usual. I’m the only one who has done anything to protect our reputation—“

“Hang our reputation!” Juno growled, and stood to pace. “We need to eat!”

“We will never starve if we keep our place in society. We have friends, in Old Town or in Olympus Mons, who will look after us, if you don’t ruin that for us too.”

“You would rather rely on charity than wages?”

“It is not charity, it is the nobility looking out for each other.”

“And what should we do when they return the visits, and our grocery bill is past due and we cannot feed them?”

“Do not speak to me in such a disrespectful tone, Juno. I know what our family should do. You already proved that you care more about dirty mercenaries halfway across the galaxy than your own mother, or your own brother—your brother…” She twisted her braids tighter between her fingers. “If you had been where you should have been, protecting Benzaiten, we wouldn’t be in this position now.”

“So Ben only mattered for his paycheck?” Juno regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth.

Sarah flinched. “It matters because he should be here! He cared for us, he protected us! He would have fixed this.”

“I miss him too. I wish he was here, but—“

“You don’t get to say that!” Sarah screamed. “You weren't there. You should have protected him, you should have stood in front of him—“ she broke off with a gasping sob.

Juno had no words. He reached out to take her hand, but she flinched away.

“Mother, please. You know I didn’t leave him on purpose.”

“You betrayed your superior, you betrayed me, you betrayed Benzaiten—“ she took a deep, hiccupping breath. “It should have been you who—“ Her glare was violently angry, and her makeup smudged in tear tracks down her face.

“You need to rest,” Juno said faintly. “We can talk again later.” He could barely speak past the weight in his chest, and his temples throbbed with held back tears. A grim resignation settled in his chest. Sarah hadn’t said anything he hadn’t thought himself a hundred times, but he could not listen to her words and still hold himself together enough to care for the estate. He swallowed down a scream and stalked from the dining room.

* * *

Juno awoke the next morning in his study, where he had fallen asleep on the narrow couch. An empty bottle of whiskey sat on the desk among his scribbled notes, and his comms was chiming with the low battery tone. He pressed his hand to his aching eyes and clenched his jaw. After a minute, he stumbled to his feet and fumbled to plug his comms in. The beeping stopped.

His mouth tasted like sawdust, and he desperately wanted to go to the kitchen and get his own coffee, but if he left his office he might see his mother.

He rang for the maid.

Instead, the housekeeper Rita appeared with a tray of toast and coffee.

“What—“ Juno’s voice came out a croak. He cleared his throat and tried again. “What are you doing here?”

“We gotta talk,” she said. She poured them both coffee from the silver pot and perched herself on his chair.

Juno wrapped his hands tight around his titanium cup and let the warmth seep into his skin. He didn’t want to talk.

That had never stopped Rita “Mistah Steel, your mother was in such a state last night, and it took me hours to get her calmed down.”

“How’d you manage?”

“Well, first I just let her cry—you know how she gets, a bullet train of emotions—oh, and the stuff she was sayin’, such hateful hysterical stuff, downright paranoid—“

“Rita.”

“Right, I’m sure you heard it all too. Anyway, she got so worked up I had to give her laudanum to get her to sleep.”

Juno nodded into his coffee.

“What are you gonna do with her, Mistah Steel? We can’t just let her continue on like one of those stream stars. I was just watching one last week, and the Lady of Erosia Manor on Venus found out her husband was having an affair, and she broke down and got real violent and then—“

“This isn’t an affair, Rita.”

“I know it ain’t. I just meant—“

“She lost her son. She’s going to grieve.”

“I know, Mistah Steel, and I know you’re hurting real bad, both of you, but you can’t let her continue like this. She’s gonna hurt herself, or someone else.”

Juno started. “Did she hurt you?”

“Just scratches, it isn’t—“

“Rita—“

She spoke over him. “It ain’t no big deal, they’ll heal right up, but what if it was a big deal? She was sayin’ real mean stuff about you.”

“Don’t worry about me. She won’t hurt me.”

Neither of them believed him, but neither did they have a solution for Sarah’s problems. Instead, they finished their coffee in silence while Juno searched for a solution he was no closer to finding.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juno finds an... unusual tenant for North Star estate. Ft a certain boy and his _red_ car

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading last chapter! Sarah Steel is off the page now.

Sarah Steel remained unwilling to allow discussion about the future of the manor. She would not sell it, nor would she allow Juno to work for a wage. Eventually, she refused to see Juno at all. Rita carried messages between them until she, too, reached the end of her patience.

She marched into Juno’s study one day after a fortnight of negotiations, poured herself a drink from Juno’s bottle of whiskey, and downed it.

“Now, Mistah Steel, I’ve been going through your accounts, and—“

“How did you get into my accounts?”

She gave him a withering look. “I don’t want to tell you how easy it was, because you’d be embarrassed.”

Juno rubbed the scar across his nose. “Right. Fine. What did you want to say about them?”

“Well, for starters, your bank account is empty.”

“I know that,” he growled.

“Sure, sure, but you gotta do something about it.”

Juno refilled their glasses. “I’m trying, but you may have noticed that my mother won’t allow it.”

“You’re gonna have to do something anyway.”

“Well…” Juno didn’t want to say any of the things he thought, that all his options would anger his mother and force him to give up the only identity he still clung to, that of the heir of North Star Estate. To do what Sarah needed might destroy her, and while Juno’s job was to care for her, he was incapable of doing it. Just by trying, he was a constant and visible reminder of his poor decisions and Ben’s death.

Here he was, unable to leave and unwilling to stay, a burden wherever he was. He wanted to leave the city and leave the sympathetic glances and veiled insults behind, leave the idle hours where he had nothing to do but remember.

Rita gently cleared her throat.

“Right. I—I can’t afford to stay on the estate, right? Keeping the lights on and the servants paid is more than our income.”

“Plus you got all that debt.”

“Oh really, I hadn’t noticed.”

“You can’t blame me for saying, Mistah Steel. Your whole family likes to pretend bad stuff ain’t happening.”

“I don’t pay you to tell me unflattering truths.”

“Sure you do.”

Juno took a hearty swig of his drink before he continued. “I think I’ll have to rent out the whole manor. Find a nice family that needs the space and leave it to them for a couple years.”

“Where are you gonna go?”

“Doesn’t matter, really. Where’s my mother going to go?” There were other noble families who would welcome a visit from her, but not for long.

“Doesn’t she have a cousin in the eastern sector?”

“He won’t answer my wires. Didn’t even come to the funeral.”

Rita tapped her lips and stared at the wall. “Hm… you gotta convince her she’s doing this of her own volition, don’t you?”

Juno nodded. “She won’t want to travel with me, either.”

“Why don’t you send her to that resort on Olympus Mons? The one that does mud cleanses and Brahmese massages and…”

“Have you been watching infomercials again?”

“Well, there’s nothing else to do, there’s no money for me to run the estate with.”

“Don’t take that tone with me, I pay you.”

“Not for much longer if you’re gonna rent me out.”

“It’s not like that Rita, you know it.”

“Sure it is. Pretty soon you won’t be able to boss me at all and I can finally tell you off occasionally.”

Juno glared, but Rita just giggled.

“Missus Steel must have some friends, right?” She asked. “Find someone who will take a spa weekend with her and let you clear your mind, right?”

Juno remembered a friend who had perhaps been genuine in his offers to help the family, and he nodded assent to Rita’s question. “Yeah, I think I’ve got someone to call.”

* * *

Ramses O’Flaherty had been a friend to the Steels for many years, and came from an equally old and respected family. Ramses had been a fixture throughout Juno’s childhood, and many of their associates had expected him and Sarah to marry, but they never had. It had become clear to Juno that their relationship was founded too firmly on childhood acquaintance to ever be anything else. Ramses had moved to Polaris a decade earlier, and Juno had barely heard from him since, but he and Sarah had kept up a correspondence, and he had been in contact after the funeral.

When Juno called him, Ramses was willing and eager to help. He agreed to discreetly seek a tenant for the manor, and then he called Sarah directly. She took Ramses’ suggestions much more willingly than she took Juno’s, and even agreed to go to Daedalia with Ramses to take in the healing air there.

Ramses also found a tenant for North Star in only a week. He called early in the morning, cheerful as always.

“Juno my boy, I have good news for you!”

“I hope it comes with coffee.”

“The sun has been up for hours!”

“Well, I haven’t.” Juno stumbled to a tablet. “Give me the news.”

“I found a man to rent your manor. He’s a good fellow, just returned to Mars after a few years abroad. He said he needed somewhere quiet to take some time for himself.”

“Glad to hear he knows how to make small talk. Does he have a name?”

“Atlas Rose.”

“Hm. Don’t know him.”

“Like I said, he’s spent quite some time away.”

“Did he say why?”

“I believe he is involved in the Brahma Outer Rim Company.”

“Sure. I’ll have Rita look into him.”

“Are you doubting my judgement of character?”

At one point, Ramses’ confidence had been inspiring to a young Juno, but now, it was exhausting to juggle in with everything else. “I’m going to get a second opinion.”

* * *

Rita answered the phone with a whine. “Mistah Steel, is this important? Anthony is just about to propose to Julian and make him Prince of Mars and I don’t wanna miss it.”

“Would I call if it wasn’t—hang on, Julian’s been Prince of Mars for a decade.”

“Yeah but they’re re-airing the streams and oh, Julian is wearing the most amazing gold jacket and it makes him look like a magician from one of those Ionian specials, you know, the ones with the card tricks, and—”

“Rita, I need you to look someone up for me.”

“Well why didn’t you say so? Give me the name, I’ll get it to you on the commercial break.”

“Now, Rita. It’s Atlas Rose. I need anything you’ve got—parents, credit score, hobbies.”

“Don’t patronize me, Mistah Steel. I’ll get you his blood type before the wedding.”

“The—right. Thanks Rita.”

* * *

Atlas Rose was an art dealer with a specialty in Outer Rim pottery. It wasn’t what Sarah Steel would have considered respectable, but the Rose estate did have a seat on Mars, and that would have to be enough to satisfy her. Atlas was a fifth child with little hope of inheritance, but his Outer Rim real estate holdings made Juno feel dizzy at their scope. It was enough that he arranged to meet Rose without reading to the end of Rita’s novel length report.

“Anything I can’t miss?” He asked her.

Rita was looking through pages so fast she didn’t appear to be reading them. “Nothin’ too bad. Few affairs with his assistants, and his art dealings sometimes get a little handwavy in the ethics department.”

“How unethical are they?”

“Well, the Outer Rim doesn’t have a whole lotta laws about artistic properties, so he sold some Brahmese vases last year for just an outrageous amount of money and I couldn’t figure out if they were from a dealer or a new era colonizer or some other kind of thief. It shouldn’t take too long to find out though.”

Juno rubbed the ridge of the scar across his nose. “No, thank you. If I refuse all aristocracy with colonial ties, I’ll have to rent the manor to a couple of nuns. Nuns from a non-evangelizing sect, too.”

“That’s a great idea! They’re so tidy and nice, and they do all that singing and they have the cutest outfits—”

“They take vows of poverty, Rita.”

“Well, renting this place would definitely make them poor. I can’t believe how much you’re charging.”

Juno shrugged. “Mr. Rose seems willing to pay it.”

* * *

It was arranged that Atlas Rose would secure a one year lease to the manor. Sarah Steel went to partake of the hot springs in Daedalia, with Ramses as her high spirited chaperone. The Kanagawas extended a carefully worded invitation to Juno; it was one that guaranteed him a place to stay for several weeks, little room to argue with their social calendar, and more chaos in his life.

All that was left was to meet Atlas Rose, elusive billionaire, and sign over his childhood home to a drifting art dealer from the Outer Rim.

* * *

He arrived in a car painted a deep, reflective red that glittered like a gemstone. Rose stepped down from the car with a flourish of his cape-like coat and removed his elaborate hat. “Lady Steel, I presume?” He was an older man with a shock of white hair and wide, owlish eyes.

“Mister Steel is fine. My mother is still the head of the estate.”

“I apologize. I shouldn’t have presumed, but when you and your valet were making all of the arrangements…”

Juno shrugged noncommittally.

A man stepped down from the passenger seat of the car. He was gorgeous, and carried himself like he knew it, with an effortlessly light and erect posture that made him look even taller than he was. His dark hair was perfectly combed; his high, flat cheekbones were pale and regal in the Martian sun. Juno’s whole body went hot, and then cold all the way to his toes.

Once upon a time, the man before him had been his lover. They were younger then, young enough to be naïve and besotted. If anything, the years had only made Peter Nureyev more beautiful; he was elegant now instead of lanky, more collected and sure of himself. The faint lines around his face spoke of past smiles, and his elegant clothes spoke of a man who had made his fortune. His hair was longer now, combed back in a neat knot, and delicate tendrils framed his face, softening the sharp cut of his suit.

“Mister Steel,” Atlas Rose spoke, “May I present my son, Duke Rose?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juno's reunion with his past lover is not everything he hoped. Cecil Kanagawa arrives.

Peter Nureyev’s eyes held no recognition as he bent over Juno’s hand. “What a pleasure to meet you, Mister Steel. I must say, you have a beautiful estate. I look forward to getting to know it better.” His voice was lighter than Juno remembered, with a nervous flutter to it.

Juno struggled for words. “I—I—I hope you find something to your liking.”

He straightened up and stepped back, but it didn’t make it any easier for Juno to think.

Nureyev turned to Rita. “Is this Miss Steel? I didn’t know you had a sister.”

Rita giggled. “Oh, no, I just run everything in his life.”

“No wonder the estate is so gorgeous. Mister Steel didn’t strike me as the designer type.” A faint smirk played around Nureyev’s glittering lips.

“Why—why doesn’t Rita show you around?” Juno said, eager to step away and catch his breath. “I’ll show Lord Rose to the study.”

“Mister Rose is sufficient for me as well, as I am not set to inherit the title. Besides, Mister Steel, we are in a position to be friends, are we not? I would love to make friends in Hyperion City.” He clapped a hand on Juno’s shoulder as they walked into the house.

“Yeah, well, I’m not going to be that guy for you. I’m on my way to the upper city as soon as you sign the paperwork.”

“The upper city, eh?” Rose said, his voice a little too casual. “Do you have family there?”

“Old friends,” Juno hedged, and then admitted, “Cecil and Cassandra Kanagawa.”

Rose made an intrigued noise. “I had no idea. Well, Mister Steel, I may see you there. Min Kanagawa has some interest in my most recent batch of acquisitions.”

Juno hummed in response. “So, I didn’t know you were bringing a friend.”

“You mean my son? I didn’t think it would be a problem. I understood that I would have full control of the estate.”

“No need to get defensive, Rose. I was surprised, is all.”

“He’s a good boy,” Rose said fondly. “And as interested in art as I am, which is a difficult thing to find, even within a family.”

Juno could have asked for the truth. He knew who Nureyev was—or who Nureyev had been, and he would have had no reason to lie when they knew each other. If he had a family name like Rose, then their engagement would have been celebrated. Instead, Juno had been persuaded to place his family and his name above his love.

Juno broke off that painful line of thinking, cleared his throat and opened the door to his office. His new tenant walked past him and observed the room, making a soft clicking noise with his tongue. His eyes lingered on the paintings: a landscape that had belonged to Sarah Steel and a post-neo-classicist piece that Juno has acquired in the Kuiper belt.

“You have interesting taste, Mister Steel.”

“Do I? I prefer to think of it as Avant gardé.”

Atlas Rose’s glance said quite clearly what he thought of Juno’s taste.

“Look, if you want to get all art dealer on the place, that’s fine. Just put my stuff in the attic or something, okay?”

“Of course, of course. Do we have papers to sign?”

The rest of their conversation passed without Juno learning any more about the object of his curiosity, but he could not bring himself to pry deeply. Instead, he answered Atlas Rose’s questions about the management of the estate, about the neighbors and the servants and the floor plan. He was an affable gentleman, and while Juno trusted no one, he found himself somewhat optimistic that North Star would be cared for in his absence.

As soon as protocol allowed him, he retreated from his office in hopes of properly considering what the return of Peter Nureyev to his life would mean. He was stopped from a proper revery by an encounter with the same gentleman, who stood in a back hallway that Juno often took in order to avoid more highly trafficked rooms. He looked up from his comms and gave Juno a smile that was no more than polite, and no matter how hard Juno searched his face, he saw no acknowledgment of their past acquaintance.

“Mister Steel, was it?”

The name sounded all wrong to Juno, who could still remember what his given name had sounded like in Nureyev’s mouth.

When Juno didn’t answer, Nureyev continued, “Your charming housekeeper gave me quite a whirlwind tour, and I’m afraid I got myself lost. Would you mind terribly showing me to the front foyer?”

“Um. Sure.”

“Thank you so much.” He hitched himself off the wall and offered his arm to Juno. Juno stuffed his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders forward. He walked a half step ahead of Nureyev down the hallway.

“I can’t imagine you leaving your estate, Mister Steel, especially when a manor is so important to a young Lord.”

“Yeah… well.”

Nureyev’s words were casual, but they turned Juno’s stomach to ice. His estate had been important to him, important enough that he had turned down a proposal from a young merchant without a penny to his nonexistent name.

“I heard about your brother.” Nureyev’s voice lost its fluttery edge. He sounded, for the first time, like he remembered who Juno was. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“You did, huh?”

“Of course I did. My father follows the war like a sporting tournament. Benzaiten is a terrestrial hero.”

“Guess he is.” Heroes didn’t mean much to Juno anymore.

He opened his mouth to demand answers, wanting to know how Nureyev had found him, how he had met Atlas Rose, who the hell Duke Rose was, but found he had more questions than time.

“Mistah Steel, there you are!” Rita’s voice interrupted his internal conflict. “Cecil is here, and he’s looking for ya! Oh, hello Mistah Rose.” Rita’s tone changed to a nervous giggle when she saw Nureyev. Juno wanted to roll his eyes, but Duke Rose was entirely too charming, and Juno could hardly blame Rita for being distracted by that particular pretty face.

“Cecil?” Nureyev asked. His voice held a hint of genuine interest, perhaps of jealousy, but Juno quickly ignored the thought. That way led to a spiral of thought that he couldn’t afford to indulge.

Rita answered. “Cecil Kanagawa, you know! Star of the streams!”

Before Nureyev could answer, Cecil’s effusive voice cut him off. “Junebug!” He cried, swept forward in a clatter of jewelry and heels, and caught Juno up in a bone crushing hug. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“This is my house.” Juno caught Nureyev’s eye over Cecil’s shoulder. Nureyev mouthed, Junebug? at him.

“And it’s such a big house, too. Where were you last night? I had a welcome dinner all planned for you and you never arrived. I thought perhaps your mother had done something awful.” Cecil didn’t look like the thought bothered him much.

“Why would you think that?”

“Oh, you know how she is. Such a flair for the dramatic. She would be perfect for one of my shows, you know—”

“Maybe, if you like a lot of screaming. Look, Cecil—” Juno glanced at Nureyev.

Miraculously, Rita stepped in. “Oh! Mistah Rose, this is Cecil Kanagawa. Mistah Kanagawa, sir, this is Mistah Rose. He’s gonna be renting the manor from Mister Steel.”

“Junebug, you didn’t tell me that you had such a gorgeous tenant lined up.” He took Nureyev by the shoulders and examined him closely. “You’ve got a face for the screen, darling.”

“On the contrary,” Nureyev said, “I’ve always been rather camera shy.” He laughed nervously. It was a high laugh that didn’t sound like the man Juno had known.

“That’s what Junebug always says, but I’ll get him yet. I’ll have my assistant send you a contract just in case you change your mind.”

“You needn’t bother, I won’t.”

Cecil pouted theatrically, his two opalescent lip rings glinting. “None of you have any respect for my ratings. Well, Rose darling, you simply must come to dinner this weekend anyway. I’m hosting a big party. I’ll send you all the details!” He dropped a wink at Nureyev and, without waiting for an answer, swept Juno out of the hall and into his waiting car.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juno attends a ball

The Kangawas held a ball to welcome Juno, despite his protests. He was corseted and made up and bejeweled to within an inch of his life by Cecil. When Juno protested, Cecil only smiled his screen smile and said, “and what if you meet the love of your life tonight? You’ll want to look your best.”

Juno knew how to translate that statement. A tabloid wedding was just what Min Kanagawa wanted.

When Cecil finally declared him ready, he was turned over to Cassandra, who was less friendly and much quieter than her brother, two traits that Juno appreciated. She took his arm with a talon-like grip, her copper nails biting into his skin. It might have been nice if anyone else was doing it to him.

She squeezed his arm just outside the ballroom. “Smile.”

“Give me a break, Cass.”

“No.” She turned her mouth up in a false grin and steered him in.

Despite his hours of grumbling, Juno felt elegant as he descended the grand staircase of the hall. The silk of his dress rustled against his skin and whispered over the marble staircase. His good eye was heavy with false lashes, and bits of gold glinted in the corner of his vision. He could barely move with all the straps and pleating and gems, but he looked good.

The rest of the guests were already assembled below them. Juno scanned the crowd for people he knew—people he would be forced to make small talk with. He saw very few of them, and most had the name Kanagawa.

Then his gaze passed over Duke Rose, and stuck.

He stood by the table of crystal champagne glasses, gently swirling one in his fingers. He was a sharp line of black against the gold and crystal decorations, tall and elegant and devastatingly handsome. The solar globes glinted off his already warm skin and lit him up with an otherworldly glow.

Juno’s heel caught against the step, and only Cassandra’s death grip kept him upright.

For the barest moment, Nureyev’s gaze flickered to Juno. Then he dropped it to his champagne. His lips moved, and Atlas Rose nodded in response.

Somehow, Juno was at the bottom of the staircase.

They moved through the mingling guests as Cassandra made clipped, scripted small talk and Juno nodded and hummed at the appropriate moments, aware of Nureyev at every turn, like he was a planet that kept trying to draw him into orbit.

“Stop twisting,” Cassandra hissed.

“What?”

“You keep turning like you’re trying to get away. Just grit your teeth, we’re almost done.”

Juno hadn’t realized.

They finally—finally—reached the alcove where the Roses stood, and Juno no longer wanted to be there. He had been drawn too close to the black hole that was his feelings, and now, looking at Nureyev was like being ripped apart in the center of collapsing gravity.

Atlas Rose seemed unaware of any tension in the room. He shook Cassandra’s hand cheerfully, then clapped a heavy hand on Nureyev’s shoulder. “Have you met my son, Duke?”

“I haven’t had the pleasure yet. Charmed.”

Nureyev took her hand delicately and kissed it. “I am honored to be here. I have heard great things about your art collection.”

“That’s all father, really,” Cassandra said dismissively. She raked her eyes over Nureyev, considering.

“And Mister Steel, so nice to see you again.” Nureyev finally turned his gaze to Juno. There was no recognition in his luminous caramel eyes, no warmth in his smile. Juno could still remember his genuine, unrestrained laugh, and the way his sharp teeth would flash.

Atlas Rose said something to him.

Juno blinked. “What?”

He gave an amiable guffaw. “I was just complimenting the gardens at the manor. They’re quite bright, even for Mars.”

Juno cleared his throat and dragged himself back to the present. “Rita does them.”

“I’ll be sure to pass her the compliment!”

Juno glanced at Nureyev again. He was buttoning one of his jacket cuffs.

“We’ll see you at dinner,” Cassandra said. “It was nice to meet you, Rose.”

They had scarcely moved out of earshot when Cecil appeared and swept Nureyev away. Juno stopped at watched them go, straining to hear Cecil’s chatter.

“Jealous?” Cass muttered in his ear.

“What? Why would I—”

“You’re staring. And you aren’t subtle, Steel.”

“I’m—he’s—”

“Better move fast, before Cecil snatches him up.”

“Cecil can have him,” Juno muttered. It came out petulant, but that was the best he could manage.

* * *

Juno danced more than he wanted, and stayed later than he wanted, in the hopes of catching Nureyev alone. Every time he seemed unoccupied, Juno would move through the crowd towards him, and every time he was gone by the time Juno reached him. Even though Nureyev was half a head taller than most of the guests, he was a master of disappearing, shadow like, into the sea of dark tuxedos and gowns.

Juno finally caught him a the hors d’oeuvres table as the sun was peeking in the tall windows. He put a hand on the table to stop Nureyev’s easy exit. “What are you doing here?” Juno demanded, voice rough with desperation and barely restrained emotion.

“What do you mean, Mister Steel? I was invited.”

“Don’t play with me, Nureyev, you said you were leaving Mars.”

“So I did, but that was ten years ago. Things change.”

“Yeah, I noticed the new name. The hell kind of name is Duke Rose?”

“Some of us like to move on and change, Mister Steel. Atlas wanted to adopt me, and I took the opportunity.” Nureyev filled his plate with the last of the shellfish cakes and some imported grapes, and barely glanced at Juno. Juno knew he deserved it—a decade would cool anyone’s affection—especially after what he had done. Despite the time, Juno still felt like a lovesick child, desperate for some acknowledgment that Nureyev felt the same.

“The new name is extremely useful for my career,” Nureyev continued mildly. “I would rather you didn’t spread the old one around.”

Juno opened his mouth to argue. Running away to change his name was childish, and he was too memorable to disappear that way anyway. But no one Juno knew now had met Nureyev when he used that name, and Juno had done enough to him already.

“Whatever,” he muttered. “Have it your way.”

“I usually do,” Nureyev said mildly. Then, softer and more genuine, “Thank you, Juno.”

He was gone before Juno could think of a retort.

* * *

Juno slipped out a side door and into Croesus’ treasured gardens. They were nothing like Rita’s riotous colors; instead, hedges trimmed into precise shapes herded Juno past fountains and statues made of Earthen Marble. The fountains gurgled peacefully and hid any lingering sounds of the party.

He reached a set of stairs and climbed them to a balcony that overlooked the edge of the mansion. When he reached the landing, he froze, for even with the clear glass railing, the reminder that they hovered thirty driving zones above Mars was not one he wanted. If he only looked out, not down, perhaps he could continue his walk away from the ballroom. He took a hesitant step towards a bench, softly framed by flowering trees.

He heard Cecil’s giggle and Nureyev’s soft laugh behind him, and there was no way to run. He could not turn to descend the stairs, which left his only escape over the edge of the balcony. Suddenly, falling off the edge and down to the rocky surface below seemed less terrifying.

Nureyev cleared his throat, and Juno turned.

They stood as the top of the staircase, watching him. Cecil clung to Nureyev’s arm, unsteady, his lipstick smeared and his tie undone.

“Junebug!” He said elatedly. “I didn’t know you were up here. Duke here was just telling me about his art gallery on Venus. I didn’t realize art was so interesting.”

“Depends on who’s selling it,” Juno said. His eyes were locked with Nureyev’s. Neither one of them blinked.

Juno summoned all his willpower and stepped towards the staircase—towards them.

“Don’t go!” Cecil shrieked. “There’s room for all of us on the bench, and we can watch the sunrise.”

“No, I—can’t give Cass the idea that I’ve run off.”

Cecil lurched from Nureyev to Juno and tugged him over to the bench, too quickly for Juno to consider the approaching edge of the balcony. “Don’t do what Cass wants,” Cecil advised, probably louder than he meant to. “First rule of surviving in this house.

“Oh yeah?”

Nureyev crossed by Juno’s knees and sat on Cecil’s other side. They were very close now, with only one body between them. Nureyev sighed lightly as he settled in and crossed his ankles, long legs stretched in front of him, the picture of ease. His hand settled on Cecil’s thigh, so casually that no one but Juno might have noticed it.

“So, Mister Steel,” Nureyev’s voice was a low drawl, and his eyes were half closed. “What happened to your eye?”

“I thought the eyepatch would make me look daring.”

“You don’t strike me as a vain man.”

“Juno here is a war hero,” Cecil said. “He fought in the outer rim.”

“I believe I have heard that.”

“You were in the outer rim for a while too, weren’t you? Maybe you crossed paths.”

“Mm, perhaps we did.” Nureyev sounded only vaguely interested. “I wasn’t in the habit of fraternizing with soldiers.”

Bile rose in Juno’s throat. Nureyev didn’t need to be so damned cool all the time, and Juno was desperate to see just a fraction of the fire in his body to be reflected in Nureyev’s manner, but his eyes were fixed on the skyline with only a mild interest. His delicate, elegant hand traced idle circles on Cecil’s leg.

The two feet between them suddenly seemed like an ocean.

Cecil asked Nureyev something, but Juno processed neither the question or the answer. He could barely breathe anymore. The conversation was little more than a rushing noise in Juno’s ears.

Finally, the sun cleared the horizon and began to heat their secluded bench. Nureyev and Cecil rose and murmured good nights. When they had left, Juno could still feel the crackling electricity left where Nureyev had sat.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A twist! Also Min Kanagawa is scary af

Juno tossed and turned in his bed for hours. Daylight streamed in, even through the glass that was designed to darken on command. Every time he opened his eyes, he was reminded that he hadn’t slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Nureyev, eyes heavy-lidded and disinterested.

Eventually he surrendered to his insomnia, showered, and shuffled downstairs for coffee.

The kitchen was blessedly empty, and no one witnessed Juno’s fight with the coffee pot more high tech than his computer. It wasn’t until his second cup that his quiet was interrupted by the last person he wanted to see.

Cecil arrived in a fuzzy green bathrobe, his hair tied up in a hideous orange and pink scarf. He started the coffee pot again with a tap of a button, and then sat across from Juno.

“Your new tenant is so dreamy,” he breathed.

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“Don’t play coy Juno. You’re only half blind.”

“I guess I lost the eye that would have found him attractive.”

Cecil sighed. “You’re no fun. I need to get that man on the screen, but he doesn’t seem interested.”

“I don’t think most people like business thrown into their pillow talk.”

“Don’t impugn his honor. Duke isn’t a man so easily convinced to threaten his dignity.”

“What.”

“We were flirting. That doesn’t mean we did anything that might cause a scandal. Honestly, Juno, do you really believe everyone to be so impetuous?”

Juno swallowed down a modicum of hope with his bitter coffee.

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” Cecil said. “Mom wants to see you as soon as you’re done with breakfast.”

“Since when?”

“Since she decided, of course.”

“I didn’t realize Min believed that her decisions were transmitted directly into people’s minds. Do you know what she could want?”

“Or course not,” Cecil shrugged.

* * *

Min kept Juno waiting in the hallway outside her office, where he paced impatiently. By the time he realized that she was probably watching him, it was too late to sit quietly and act nonchalant. Finally, a computerized voice informed him, “Min Kanagawa will see you now.”

Min’s office was a shocking combination of black and white; not a single thing in the room was any shade of grey, including Min. She wore a black suit, an inky contrast to her white skin and white hair, and even her eyes were dark enough to look black. Only her nails were red.

She straightened her white tablet and a stack of papers, and then folded her white hands against the glossy black desk.

“Sit down,” she said crisply.

Juno obeyed, and remembered that he wasn’t wearing a single thing that had been ironed. He glanced at the corner of the room. The office was technically a quiet zone within the mess of shows that were all filmed within the mansion, but he was sure Min liked the insurance policy of a hidden camera or twelve.

Because it was a quiet zone, anything could happen in here.

“So, what’s it to be?” she asked.

“What?”

“What will your show be about? We’ve cleared a spot for you on Thursday nights.”

“I don’t want a show.”

“If you haven’t decided yet, I have a few ideas—”

“I told Cass I would only stay here if you kept me out of your stream network.”

“Of course you want a show, Mister Steel. You’re a war hero, it would be easy to make you famous. And then consider the ad revenue—”

“Oh well, that changes everything. I always wanted a sponsor jacket.”

Min raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “No need to be sarcastic, Steel. I’m offering you a way to clear your debt.”

“You don’t know anything about my debt.”

“I know it’s quite extensive. Would you like some tea?”

“Tea.”

“An infusion of herbs in hot water, often given to guests to make them feel at ease.”

“I know what tea is.”

“And—”

“Sure, I’ll have some.” A white envelope with his name printed in block letters caught his eye. She already had the contract drawn up.

Min saw his gaze and picked up the file and handed it to him. Inside were stacks of Sarah’s accounts, her credit bills, and her arrears in taxes.

“What is this?” Juno snapped.

“What does it look like, Steel? It’s a detailed account of your mother’s debts, and yours, and your dearly departed brother’s. Did I miss anything?”

“Only the part where this is none of your business.”

Even Sarah didn’t know about Ben’s gambling debts. Juno rifled through and found them neatly accounted and with a nauseating total at the bottom.

“Of course it’s my business, Mister Steel. You’re in my house.”

“I’m not paying rent, am I? People don’t usually run credit checks on houseguests.”

“I’m not most people,” Min said, while looking smug enough to put Juno off his breakfast. “It was more than professional curiosity this time, I admit.”

“Uh huh.”

“I have a business proposition for you.”

“You already told me that one. I said no.”

“Even if I can wipe away your debt?”

Juno eyed her warily. “All of it?”

“You know we have the money.”

“Yes, but not the sense of charity.”

Min had a light in her eye that only appeared when she was planning on doing something really devious. “On the contrary, my dear. You see, Cecil is quite fond of you, and I want to make sure he won’t get his heart broken.”

He thought of the way Cecil fawned on Nureyev, the besotted look in his eyes, and let out a harsh laugh.

Min pulled her mouth down in an approximation of a frown. “You haven’t noticed? Oh, dear.”

“I’ve noticed him throwing himself at Duke Rose every chance he gets.”

“He’s trying to make you jealous.”

The irony of that statement was not lost on Juno. “Cut the crap, Min. Cecil doesn’t need you to be his matchmaker. What’s this really about?”

Min straightened her already straight tablet pen, which looked more like a scalpel in her fingers. “Cecil does like you well enough, and he would be a wise match for you to make. At your age, it would be unlikely that you receive a better proposal.”

“What.” This was a marriage proposal, not a tabloid hookup. “Have you… asked Cecil about this?”

“Cecil wants what is best for this family.”

“I’m still not sure where I fit in. No, wait—”

“We need a stream with an outside name, someone easy to recognize.”

Cecil’s engagement to Juno wouldn’t bring in enough new viewers to justify the expense. Juno wasn’t a celebrity, and the sordid details of his life wouldn’t be known outside the aristocracy. Those could be leaked, of course, if Min had anything to do with it. A fallen nobleman was exactly the sort of story that would attract the romantics.

“You want my title.”

Min’s smile was smug. “It’s the ultimate story, isn’t it? You’re a war hero, an Earl, and you have quite a memorable appearance. You would afford Cecil the royal wedding every commoner dreams about, and the viewers will eat it up.”

“You forget the part where Cecil doesn’t want to marry me.”

“Political marriages are hardly uncommon, Mister Steel. You will be playing a part, as I expect you would in any marriage. And if you dally with someone else—” She shrugged. “Adultery is wonderful for the ratings.”

“I think I will have to refuse your offer,” Juno said. “I’m not going to be Cecil’s arm candy.”

“I’m sure Cassie would be just as amenable, if you prefer her.”

Juno laughed and stood. “Do you hear yourself? You think I’m going to bargain for your children? I may not be worth much, but I’m not going to sell myself to your stream show.”

Min raised an eyebrow. “No need to be so cynical. We would be entering into a mutually beneficial relationship.”

“I’m not interested.”

“You’re deluding yourself if you think you can climb out of this hole with a little careful budgeting. I am offering you the best shot you’ll get.”

“I’m not interested,” Juno repeated.

“I’ll give you a week to decide.”

“Fine, Sure.” Juno stormed out before Min could argue any further.

He stumbled right into Nureyev, who was standing close enough that he might have been eavesdropping. Nureyev steadied him with gentle hands. “Careful, Juno,” he said, voice low. “You never know who might be listening in these halls.”

Juno’s face burned, and his arms ached where Nureyev held him. For a moment, the space between them tightened, and Juno looked up into his eyes, expecting to see something else.

Instead, Nureyev released his hold and stepped back. Juno’s heart beat in his throat, too fast for him to speak, and he only stood and watched Nureyev’s form until the man disappeared into Min’s office.

* * *

At dinner, Juno struggled to maintain his focus on Cassandra’s questions about the Kuiper belt. Nureyev was too far down the table for Juno to eavesdrop, but the low timbre of his voice carried all the same. He was deep in conversation with Croesus, the distant Kanagawa patriarch.

Cassandra snapped her fingers under Juno’s nose. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

“I—sorry—” his eyes flicked to Nureyev again.

She followed his gaze. “Ah. Your little crush.”

Juno cleared his throat. “What is he doing at dinner?”

“Oh, he’s some sort of art dealer,” Cassandra shrugged. “Dad has a bunch of old paintings he wants to clear out of downstairs so he can turn it into a proper art gallery.”

So he wasn’t just here for Cecil. He was here for a job, and then he would leave.

“So what, Croesus is in the museum business now?”

“Something like that. He wants artefacts from all over the galaxy.” She rolled her eyes. “Something about pro-mars domination.”

Juno grimaced. “I’m not sure art is the way that’s going to happen.”

“It might get me off this burned out rock,” she said viciously. “If he thinks it’s his idea, he’ll let me go buy things. Except now he has this charming new art dealer, and Cecil loves him, and Daddy loves him, so he’ll probably get all the work.”

“Cecil is fickle,” Juno reassured.

“Dad isn’t.” Cassandra fixed Juno with a sharp look. She looked just like her stepmother when she did it. “I want you to get rid of Rose for me.”

“You want me to—”

“Not kill him, don’t be silly. Just dig up some dirt on him. There must be something in his past that’s incriminating, he’s an art dealer.”

“And what will you do if there isn’t anything to find?”

“Then I’ll have to get creative, but I know you can do it, Juno. You’re smart enough for that, and you can sneak around without cameramen following you.”

“I don’t deal in gossip, Cass.”

“It isn’t gossip if it’s true.”

“Don’t try to get me on semantics.”

“I’m a Kanagawa, I live and die by semantics. Now, are you going to help me get out of this damn house or not?”

Juno knew better than to take the deal.

“I’ll help if you try to get Min off my back.”

“What’s she doing?”

Juno glanced up the table. Nureyev and Croesus and Cecil rose, gathered their things, and disappeared into the hallway. When the door closed, Juno let out a heavy sigh.

“She wants me to propose to Cecil.”

Cassandra laughed so loud and long that Juno started to worry about her. “You and—Cecil?” she choked out.

“Now, come on Cass—”

“No! Can you imagine, holy shit.” She dissolved into cackles again.

Juno let out a low chuckle in answer. “I told her it was ridiculous.”

“It’s a farce, that’s what it is. Min’s come up with some bad schemes in her time, but this may be the wildest one yet. She must know you would never agree.”

“She offered me a lot of money to do it.”

“Have you told Cecil?”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good, don’t. He’ll only get his feelings hurt.”

“Cecil doesn’t—”

“No, good lord, he would hate being married to you, but he’d still be upset that you didn’t want to marry him.”

“Right.”

“Perhaps I’ll get Min off your back by proposing to you myself, eh?”

“That’s not funny, Cass, we’d eat each other alive in a month.”

Cassandra sobered. “It’s not a bad idea, actually”

“What?”

“Think about it—you need the money, right? And I need to get off world. We pay off your debts, then go on a long honeymoon and never come back.”

“I can’t leave the estate.”

“Sure you can. Let the weird art dealer keep renting it and explore the stars.”

“My mother would never approve.”

“Oh, hang your mother. If I can defy mine, you can defy yours.”

Despite Juno’s reluctance, Cassandra’s offer was a good one. Cecil’s ego would never permit him to enter into a marriage where he wasn’t adored and able to control every minute detail of the relationship, but his sister was more realistic about what a political marriage entailed. While it would have been foolish for Juno to call her the better adjusted twin, she was the one he knew better how to manage, and the one who cared less about appearances. They both had something the other needed, and enough pragmatism to compromise their pride to gain it.

His gaze slid to Nureyev’s empty seat.

“I’ll think about it,” he stalled. “Give me a week to see if I can find anything on Rose.”

Cassandra nodded, and raised her nearly empty wine glass. “To subterfuge!”

Juno clinked his glass against hers, his mind already turning over the details of Peter Nureyev’s last decade that Juno most wanted to know.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juno and Peter find themselves alone together, underneath the watchful eyes of a certain mask

Juno was intimately acquainted with the pre-dawn hours. In his army days, he had been up to train, and later he had been the one to rouse the men stationed under him. Recently, he had come to know it from the other side, usually in tandem with a bottle of whiskey.

This time, he gave up on sleep to crawl out of bed and into his abandoned pants.

The Kanagawa mansion was empty, and he wandered the hallways unbothered by camera men or servants. He knew there were cameras watching him anyway, but they were easier to ignore when they weren’t six feet tall and clicking eagerly.

The grey tiles made no noise under Juno’s feet; they had been chosen to be neutral in color and feel in order to never distract from a shot. It was so quiet that when Juno shut a door behind him, the soft thump made him flinch.

He shuffled down a staircase and found himself in the first room of Croesus’ art gallery. Soft lights flickered on as he stepped into the room; they continued to slowly brighten around him as he walked forward.

The walls were painted deep blue, and three were hung with paintings of Martian landscapes, clustered so close together that the blue looked like veins of luminescence threaded through a wall of red and orange rock. It was an impressive display, although Juno felt no more patriotic at the end of the gallery than he had at the beginning. He saw miles of red sand every time he had to leave the dome for something; he wasn’t desperate to look at more of it in someone’s basement.

The door at the end of the gallery was nearly opaque blue synth-glass, just translucent enough for light to glow through. Dark shapes showed through the glass, distorted.

The door slid open with a soft whoosh as he approached it. A statue dominated his view, an ancient Martian sculpture hewn from obsidian. The two figures were strange and many limbed, but the tone of their embrace was easy to ascertain. The plinth read, Kiss, in Stereo.

He circled the statue, unable to avert his gaze. It glinted in the orange lights that had been placed around it, and the effect was more sinister than romantic.

The sound of a shoe squeaking against tile interrupted his reverie. He sucked in his breath and went for his blaster by instinct, before he remembered that he wasn’t carrying it. Heart pounding, he crept towards the source of the noise.

He rounded a corner to see Peter Nureyev. He was studying a mask, arms crossed in contemplation, but he glanced at Juno as soon as they were within each other’s lines of sight.

“N—Rose?”

“Hello, Juno. Couldn’t sleep?”

Of course he would run into the only person in the galaxy who knew how bad his insomnia was. “What are you doing down here?”

“Admiring the collection. It is incredible.”

“At three in the morning?”

“You’re down here at three in the morning, too.”

“Yeah but I—never mind.”

Nureyev raised an eyebrow and turned back to the mask. “I’m sorry to disturb your solitary wanderings.”

Juno grunted and moved closer so he could look at the mask from Nureyev’s point of view. It was a massive piece, perhaps not even meant to be worn on the face. The center face was twisted into a snarl, mouth opened into darkness. A face on each side looked out into the rest of the room, equally distorted with rage or pain. Juno couldn’t identify what it was made of, something iridescently purple, wrapped with pulsing veins of gold. When Juno moved, the eyes of all three faces seemed to follow him.

It was mounted nearly seven feet up the wall, so that when Juno stood behind Nureyev it framed his head like a sick and dangerous crown, the mouth poised to bite down.

“So uh…” he cleared his throat and tried again. “So what’s this supposed to be, anyway?”

“The mask of Grimpoteuthis,” Nureyev said it with a flourish. His eyes stayed fixed on it. “One of the genuine artifacts of the Martian age. It is incalculably valuable.”

“Will you buy it?”

“Oh, no, Croesus would never sell it. I’m here to appraise its value for insurance purposes.”

“Huh.”

Nureyev finally looked at him. “What are you thinking?”

“I dunno. It seems like you came a long way just to give an insurance quote.”

He laughed. “Oh, no, I came a long way to sell Min some hideous vases. The insurance quote is a favor, so Croesus lets me continue to hang around.”

Juno nodded. “How did you get into the art business?”

Nureyev shrugged delicately. “Oh, I was traveling around and one thing led to another, you know how it is.”

Juno didn’t, but the message was clear: Nureyev didn’t want to talk. He could hardly be blamed for that, after everything. “Right,” he said stiffly. “I’ll go back to bed.”

Nureyev only nodded.

Juno was at the doorway when he finally replied. It was only Juno’s name, but said with the intensity that only a lover’s memory could conjure.

Juno froze, filled with part ecstasy, part terror. He had yearned to hear that tone in Nureyev’s voice for days now, to know that Nureyev remembered him, but now that he heard it, it only increased the pain. It was a nearly impossible obstacle, now that he had heard a hint of the feelings they had once shared, for him to walk away and return to his room alone.

“Sleep well,” Nureyev said softly.

Juno could not respond without betraying every emotion in his heart. He fled the gallery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter this update! There was no better way to split it up.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juno snoops

Juno woke the next morning with the burning desire to know everything he could about Nureyev’s past, and no common sense could keep him from satisfying the now overwhelming urge. He reasoned with himself that Cassandra had asked him to, and she was at least nominally his friend, so he could argue that he was working altruistically. She had given him a copy of the mansion’s skeleton key, and made it too easy to resist the possibility of exploring Nureyev’s room. He told himself it was common sense that brought him first to the vanity, to rifle through the jewelry box and pour over the cosmetics.

He found a bottle of cologne in a drawer, the same cologne that Nureyev always wore. Juno turned it over in his hands, committing the brand and name to memory. It felt like a violation; Nureyev had never told Juno what he wore. He had to remind himself that he was on an investigative mission before he could put the bottle down. The urge to pocket the bottle and keep the scent with him was almost too strong to resist.

He turned to a slim tin document case with a rose engraved in the brass plaque on the lid.

Inside was a disorganized chaos of papers with no order that Juno could determine, and when leafing through them revealed nothing, he dumped the whole thing out on the bed. The bed itself was massive, the kind of elaborate wealth display that new money like the Kanagawas favored. The comforter was so brightly embroidered that it hurt Juno’s eye to look at it.

He focused on the papers instead. There were several authentication certificates for sculptures with long, pretentious names and an accreditation for a Duke Rose. Juno flipped open a passport the said Duke Rose was from Mars. That meant that Atlas Rose had forged papers for his new son, and Nureyev had gained more than simply a new name.

Why did it matter where Duke Rose had come from? Atlas could just have easily adopted someone from the outer rim, and then he would have had no need to lie. The passport held no answers.

Juno picked up the document case to reload it and heard a faint scraping noise.

He shook it, and something knocked against the metal, which told him that there was something inside the case. He put it down on the bed and searched for a false bottom.

There was a button in one corner so small that Juno only noticed it because a fingernail caught on the raised edge. He searched his pockets and then the room for something small enough to depress the catch; he was lucky that Nureyev kept a mess of hair clips and pins strewn across his desk.

When he opened the false bottom, he found three more passports. The first one that Juno opened was for a Duke Rose from Brahma. The next appeared to be authentic; it was for a Peter Nureyev from Brahma. The third was for Rex Glass, from Venus. All three used the same picture.

As Juno compared the passport for Nureyev with the one for Rex Glass, it occurred to him that he had no idea who the real Nureyev was. Maybe the identity that he had known was also an imposter, only one of a long string of aliases.

Could everything between them have been a lie? Had Nureyev ever loved him? If the grief were one sided, it would be poetic, in a way, for Juno would have destroyed no one’s happiness but his own. It might be easier on Juno’s conscience if there had been no genuine feelings on Nureyev’s part, if he had not felt any of the guilt and regret and loss that Juno had felt over past decade, but Juno did not want to think that the happiest months of his life had been built on falsehoods. He did not deserve that reassurance, but he yearned for it.

Voices alerted Juno a second before the door beeped and unlocked. He gathered all of the papers into the portfolio, snapped it shut, and practically threw it on the desk. He shut the bathroom door as Nureyev and Atlas entered the room.

“My boy, there’s nothing to worry about. The Kanagawas may have cameras, but they are not personally observant or particularly scrupulous about matters of legality.”

“I’m not worried about them,” Nureyev sounded scornful. “Cecil already thinks I’m here for him. I’m worried about Juno Steel.”

Atlas scoffed. “Our landlord? He’s a drunk and a has-been, I’ve heard the rumors.”

“He was a lieutenant before he retired—“

“Was dismissed—“

“My point is that he’s smart, and he’s been watching me, and I’m worried he might get involved.”

“He can’t get involved if we stay discreet and make sure there is no paper trail. We’ll be gone in a few days, and then it won’t matter what he thinks.”

“No, Mag. Staying discreet is not good enough. He’s smarter than all the Kanagawas put together and if we make one mistake—“

“Understood,” Atlas—Mag—said. “If you think he’s such a threat, then I trust your judgement. I’ll make changes to our delivery.”

“Thank you,” Nureyev said faintly. “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s go to this dinner.” 

Juno stood in the bathroom for several long minutes, frozen in place. Nureyev was worried he would get involved? In what, and why? Was Nureyev worried for his own sake, or Juno’s? Nureyev thought he was smart, at least, which was—not the point at all.

The point was that Duke and Atlas Rose were manufactured identities, and they were not supposed to be in Hyperion City. The point was that Juno had to find out what had happened to Peter Nureyev. The point was that Cassandra was right, god damn her.

He left the bathroom and repacked the document case as carefully as he could, so that the contents were close to how they had been when he found it, then slid it back to its place on the desk.

He stepped out of the room and came face to face with Nureyev.

“Mister Steel.”

“Nur—Rose.”

“Were you inside my room?”

There would be no use in denying the fact. “I was looking for you.”

“I keep my door locked.”

“It was. Um. Ajar. I thought you would be there.”

Nureyev gave him an appraising look and stepped back. “Why were you looking for me?”

Juno knew he would have to lie better if has was going to get out of this. There was only one answer that might work.

“I wanted to apologize.”

“For what?” Nureyev’s voice was politely interested and revealed no emotion.

“For—for before. For leaving.”

“There is nothing to apologize for.” His voice was so mild that Juno felt like screaming. “You did what was best for you.”

“Well, maybe I didn’t. Maybe it was stupid.”

The lines around Nureyev’s mouth tightened. “In any case, it was a long time ago, and we are different people now. I need to get my tie before I’m late to dinner.”

Juno fumbled for words. All he managed was “sure, okay,” as he let Nureyev past.

That was the end of that, then. Whoever Duke Rose was, whoever Nureyev had turned himself into in the last eight years, he wasn’t in love with Juno Steel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's day :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juno gets some answers and a lot more questions

Juno called Rita as soon as he return to his room after dinner. She picked up before the comms had even rung once.

“Is the TV broken?” Juno asked by way of greeting.

“What, I can’t be excited to talk to you?”

Juno cleared his throat. “Were you waiting by the phone for me?”

“There’s nothin’ to do here,” she said. “Missus Steel was—well, she was a lot of work. And now she’s gone, and you’re gone, and your pretty tenant isn’t even here to flirt with because he’s off bein’ all sociable and Atlas Rose is ancient and boring and even he’s at the Kanagawas’ half the time and I’m bored.”

“I have good news then. I have a favor to ask you.”

“This better be an actual challenge, boss. If it’s remotely doing a virus scan on your comms I can do that blindfolded, and also I already did one this morning.”

“You did a what?”

“Well, it started automatically, but I get the results delivered to the main desktop and deal with the viruses individually because it’s more secure that way, and I know you aren’t gonna clear them so I figured, I may as well. You don’t watch porn so that makes it even easier—“

“Hang on, what? How do you—“

“Well if you did, there’d be a lot more viruses on your comms. I know you can’t set up a firewall.”

Juno rubbed his nose. “I’m changing the subject.”

“Sure thing, boss. What have you got for me?”

“I need you to look up some names for me. First, a Rex Glass from Venus. Then, see if you can link him to anyone named Mag.”

“Just Mag? No last name?”

“I didn’t get one.”

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do. Anything else?”

“Yeah. Yeah he’d be the same age as Atlas Rose, and look exactly the same.”

Rita screeched. “You think Atlas Rose is an imposter?”

“Yeah, and his son too. I found four different passports in his room.”

“Why were you goin’ through his stuff?”

“I... had a hunch. I got the Duke Rose passport and a matching one for a Duke Rose from Brahma, and then the Rex Glass one. I—never mind.” He couldn’t bring himself to tell her about the Peter Nureyev passport.

“Anything in particular you’re looking for?”

“I’ll take anything, but maybe start with art dealers.”

“Should be easy. I’ll call you back in a few minutes, okay?”

* * *

Rita did not call back in a few minutes. By the time her call came, more than an hour had elapsed, and Juno had passed worried to become convinced that she was distracted by her streams when the phone finally rang.

“Alright Mistah Steel, have you got a pen?”

Juno stumbled off his bed and fumbled for a pen. “Let’s hear it.”

“Okay so I started with Atlas Rose again, but I was digging deeper, because last time I didn’t think he was a whole made up person. And Atlas Rose definitely exists, I found a martian birth certificate for him about 40 years ago and it is for the Rose family, but his parents are like, minor cousins.”

“Okay...”

“I know, it’s not much. But then I thought, that’s weird if you think his real name might be Mag, so I thought, maybe this is a case of identity theft, you know? Like in the Prince Xerxes, where everyone thinks he’s the prince, but then it turns out he just wants to marry the princess that Xerxes is engaged to and then the fake Prince Xerxes stabs the real Prince Xerxes and—“

“Rita.”

“The point is, what if Mag killed the real Atlas Rose and took his identity? So I started digging by reverse image searching in the Martian network cache and let me tell ya, whoever this Mag is, he does not like cameras, but I found a picture of him at some society soiree a few years ago as Atlas Rose, and then I found an Atlas Rose at a ribbon cutting for an equestrian barn a few years before that and they are absolutely different people, the old Atlas Rose is like six inches taller and he’s got red hair, so I think what I’m tryin’ to say is that I’m in a house with a murderer.”

“The original Atlas Rose might have died of natural causes.”

“Might have, but that’s a big risk to take, isn’t it? And it doesn’t seem likely, the timing would have to be awful convenient and besides, it wouldn’t make narrative sense. Atlas Rose—I mean, Mag-Atlas Rose, the new version—seems like the kind of guy who is very particular about things, you would not believe the things he’s asked me to do to the security cameras, it isn’t even about security, it’s just tedious, he’s worse than you are about technology because he knows just enough to be annoying, anyway, the point is that you were right and there’s something fishy goin’ on here.”

It took Juno a moment to sort through Rita’s speech. “Do you think he’s going to hurt you?”

“I don’t know, Mistah Steel. I still don’t know what Mag-Atlas Rose is up to, he’s very good at covering his tracks, but I don’t think he’s been killing people for his ugly vases at least.”

“Okay, well don’t let on that you’ve been digging into him,” Juno said. “Better to be safe. And call me if he does anything weird. I can borrow Cecil’s motorbike if I have to.”

“Aw Mistah Steel, that’s real sweet, but I’ve been taking self-defense lessons with Frannie and I can pack quite a punch. Also I got the cutest little Taser, it’s bright orange and I bedazzled it—”

Even Juno was surprised by fond his voice sounded when he replied, “I’d still feel better if you called me. Now, did you find anything out about Duke Rose?”

“Uh, not as much. Not so much as a birth certificate. So far as I can tell there hasn’t been a Duke Rose born anytime in the last 300 years and that was as far back as I went because there is no way he’s that old, even with cosmetic enhancements, so I think he’s made up entirely. I went looking for a Rex Glass too. I started on Venus and there is nothing, the closest I found was a lady named Wren Glass and I think that’s just a coincidence. On Mars, a Rex Glass worked for Dark Matters for about 36 hours and then the file either ends or it got wiped. I could look deeper into it if you wanted, but—”

“No, I’m sure that’s someone else,” Juno said. “There’s no way an art dealer would need to infiltrate Dark Matters. It sounds like this is a new identity for—whoever this is.”

“Yeah I’d guess so. Duke Rose shows up in a lot of sale records, which is how I was researching him before, but it’s all exactly what I told you, a lot of art stuff.”

“Right.” Juno considered. With the exception of the possible murder of the original Atlas Rose, which he still considered unlikely, it seemed like this was mostly two con men using an old Martian name to gain credibility. That wasn’t lawful, but it also wasn’t evil.

A knot that he hadn’t realized was in his chest loosened at the acknowledgement that Nureyev was most likely not planning anything too nefarious.

“Mistah Steel?” Rita prompted, when he was silent too long.

“Thanks for all your research, Rita. It—well, I don’t know if it helps. I don’t know what I’m trying to figure out.”

“I don’t know either, but there’s something fishy going on.”

“You’re right, there is. I just don’t know if I want to get involved.”

“Of course you want to get involved. You’re nosy and you always want to know the answers to stuff—”

“I believe you’re talking about yourself.”

“Nuh-uh, you love those unsolved mystery shows as much as I do, boss. Now, _Fighting with the Stars_ is on in two minutes, unless you need something else?”

“No, you watch your show. I’ll call if I think of something else.”

Juno hung up and stared at his phone. Who was Duke Rose? Who was Peter Nureyev?

More importantly, what was he planning?

* * *

Juno paced the halls of Kanagawa mansion until he found Cassandra in the games room, playing pool against herself.

“You alright, Steel?”

Juno took a pool cue. “What color are you?”

“I’m both of them, idiot. You can play stripes.” She gestured at the table generously.

He lined up his shot. “What can you tell me about the Mask of Grimpoteuthis?”

“What do you want to know?”

“It’s the most valuable thing in Croesus’ collection, isn’t it?” He sunk the nine ball, mostly on luck, and lined up a shot for the four. He hadn’t played pool since he lost his eye.

“I suppose so. It’s the only thing we know is genuine Martian. Do you think Rose is planning to steal it?”

“I doubt it,” Juno said honestly. “Min wants to buy a lot of vases from him, and stealing from Croesus doesn’t seem like a good career move. But it is a… weird piece.” He couldn’t get the image of Nureyev standing under it out of his head. The mask was threatening, and mesmerizing, and Nureyev had wanted it. Juno just didn’t know why, or for what. He missed his shot and stepped back to let Cassandra at the table.

“Weird doesn’t even begin to describe it. It’s creepy, isn’t it? Feels like it’s got a brain of its own, and it’s watching you. But it’s part of Dad’s big patriotism museum.”

Juno nodded. He was telling the truth when he said he didn’t think Nureyev was going to steal it, but he didn’t know what he thought was going on instead.

“What do you think this is about, Steel?”

“Take your shot, Cass. I’m thinking.”

“You came here to ask questions. Surely you must have some idea.”

Juno shook his head. “So far, Rose seems like an art dealer, and that’s all I know.”

Cassandra threw her pool cue down and crossed her arms. “I know there’s something secretive about him, and I know you know what it is. I need to know. It’s the only way I’m going to get him out of here.”

“You only think he’s secretive because you want him gone. That’s not evidence.”

“I have plenty of evidence. He showed up here right before Dad was going to hire me to be his art buyer and took my place, which can’t be a coincidence. And I know he knows you, Steel—No, don’t try to deny it. I see how he looks at you.”

Juno frowned. “How _does_ he look at me then?”

“Like he wants to eat you up.”

“Maybe he thinks I’m cute,” Juno mumbled.

“Don’t play dumb,” she said. “I saw him at dinner last night. If you haven’t fucked already, you’re going to soon. I don’t know what’s between you two, but if it means you’re protecting him, I swear on the Empress’ life, I’m going to throw you to the blades with him.”

“Wait—Cass—” This had suddenly gotten very out of control. “He doesn’t—we aren’t—”

“And maybe you can have him tell Cecil, before he strings him along too far?”

“I don’t know anything about his relationship with Cecil, except that there’s more there than there is between the two of us. We don’t have anything, Cass.”

Cassandra huffed. “Forget it, Steel. I’ll figure this out without you, then.”

“There’s nothing to figure out!”

“We’ll see.” Cassandra stormed out, leaving Juno clutching a pool cue and thoroughly confused.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Croesus arrives. Complications ensue. Cecil cries.

Dinner the following evening was a tense affair. Nureyev sat indecently close to Cecil, and whispered to him while everyone else tried to talk around them and pretend that Cecil’s affection was not so obvious. Cassandra sat beside Juno and across from Nureyev and managed to glare at everyone in attendance; and although Juno could not be sure what he had even done to make her so angry, he could not be in doubt of her emotions.

Atlas Rose wasn’t there, which made the table much quieter. Juno would have been grateful, but he still didn’t know if he trusted the man at the estate with Rita. Croesus was also absent, but he didn’t seem to actually like his family, so he usually dined alone.

He stormed in just before desert, scattering servants in his wake. He was a short man who had allowed his hair to go grey in a way no one else in his family would have ever even considered, and his suits were cut like the mobster’s suits in the streams that Rita liked to watch. He did not need to adhere to the glamour that his children and his fourth wife clung to, for his money was the foundation of their empire.

He was followed by Kanagawa guards dressed in uniforms nearly identical to the galactic army uniforms.

“The mask is gone!” He bellowed.

Nureyev set down his fork, his face carefully blank.

“What do you mean, gone?” Min asked in a voice like ice.

Cecil jumped to his feet. “Stolen?”

“I know it didn’t walk away!” Croesus cried out. “There’s nothing on the security cameras, which means someone who knows what they were doing took it.”

Concern flitted across Nureyev’s face.

“Who was it?” Cecil asked.

“If I knew that, do you think I would be here? This whole mansion is on lockdown until it can be searched, top to bottom. All of you stay in this room.”

“But Daddy!” Cecil cried. “Duke and I were going to go for a walk.”

“I don’t care! That mask is more valuable than your life, so all of you are going to do exactly what I say, and don’t move a step from this room” He stormed out again. The guards stayed by the door to watch them, their faces stern.

“Well, this is ridiculous,” Cassandra said primly. She folded her napkin and put it on the table. “I think we all know who did it.”

“What?” Cecil gasped.

“Who is new in town, overly interested in weird art, and spends an awful lot of time skulking around dark corridors?”

“Junebug would never!”

“No, you idiot, I’m talking about Duke Rose.”

“No!”

Cass stood. “Well it wasn’t me or you or mother, of course. And Juno would never do something to threaten his precious family name, so he didn’t steal it. He is, however, definitely having an affair with Rose, so I’m sure he knows something.”

“Are we?” Nureyev said mildly. “I had no idea.”

The look Min gave Juno could have melted glass. He avoided her gaze, and told Cassandra, “We’re not, which I told you yesterday.”

“Duke, tell me it isn’t true,” Cecil quavered.

Nureyev still sat in his dinner chair, one arm hooked over the back, completely at ease. “Of course it isn’t true.” Nureyev said. “Mister Steel has no interest in me.”

Nureyev must have been lying to protect him. There was no way he didn’t realize Juno’s feelings.

“Then Cassie, why—”

“Oh, don’t be stupid, Cecil. He looks at Steel like he’d die for him.”

This had all spiraled rapidly out of control. Tears were beginning to track down Cecil’s cheeks, and Juno’s chest tightened in panic; he never imagined that Cecil’s affection for Nureyev was genuine, for it had all been too fast for the development of real feelings, and Cecil flirted with everyone. It appeared, unfortunate as it may be, that Cecil at least fancied himself in love with Nureyev, and as much as Juno hated the thought, he could not fault anyone for their feelings for Nureyev, when his had remained over nearly a decade apart.

Nureyev studied Cassandra. He smiled, and it was a sharp smile that showed his teeth. “Perhaps we should get back to the more pressing matter?” He said. “It appears we have had a theft on our hands.”

“We have, and you did it,” Cecil said. “You betrayed me, and you betrayed Daddy—” he broke off in a fountain of tears.

“Well, hang on,” Juno said. “We don’t know that N-Rose did it. We only have Cassandra’s word for it.”

“When I talked to you yesterday, you said he had his eye on the mask!”

“I did not! I asked what you knew about the mask, and you made unfounded assumptions!”

“After I asked you to investigate Rose! I knew what you were getting at, Steel. Just because you have affection for him—”

“This isn’t about my affection—” Juno caught himself. “This is about proof, Cass. And we don’t have any of that, except circumstantial evidence and your suspicions. So be quiet until we know a little bit more.”

“You asked Juno to investigate Duke Rose?” Min asked sharply. “What for, Cassandra?”

Cassandra shrugged and then crossed her arms defiantly. “I thought he seemed suspicious, but I didn’t want to make a big deal of things before I knew more.”

Juno snorted. “So much for that plan.”

“Why didn’t you come to me?” Min asked.

“You would make a big deal.”

“If you thought there was a criminal in our midst and didn’t say anything, you have put this whole family in danger.”

“Well, I didn’t think he would actually steal the Mask of Grimpoteuthis.”

“Hang on now,” Juno said, “There’s a big difference between theft and something dangerous like murder.”

Min gave him another withering look. “Both would threaten our family’s reputation, Mister Steel, and I will stand for neither.”

Juno almost said that a murder wouldn’t make a good stream special, and then realized how stupid that was, when only Min was allowed to think that. He wanted to continue to defend Nureyev, but he didn’t have any more proof than Cassandra. Nureyev’s eyes betrayed nothing when Juno looked at him.

Juno shrugged. “How about dessert, then?”

“I don’t dine with thieves,” Min said imperiously.

“Lucky for you, there are none at this table,” Nureyev said. “At least, none that I know of.”

“I was talking about you, Rose.”

“I’m sure you were.” He flashed a nervous smile. “However, I can assure you that I did not steal the mask.”

Cassandra made a derisive noise.

“Oh? You seem very eager to point fingers, Miss Kanagawa.”

“Pudding!” Juno said loudly, and waved at one of the servants. “Let’s all have some pudding and wait for Croesus to sort this out, alright?”

They didn’t have to wait long. The Kanagawa patriarch returned with what appeared to be the entire security team before they were done with dessert. He was trembling.

“You!” He pointed a finger at Nureyev. “You stole it, after everything I’ve done for you—”

“I assure you, I did no such—”

“We found the mask! In your room! No doubt you meant to sneak out with it tonight!”

Nureyev made a small, derisive noise in his throat.

“And you—” Croesus turned his finger on Juno. “He’s your tenant. Didn’t you background check him?”

“Of course I did,” Juno grumbled.

“So you were in on it, then—”

“Hey.”

“Or your useless security missed that you’ve been fraternizing with a criminal—”

“Hey!” Juno stood. “You leave Rita out of this!”

“Mister Kanagawa, I can assure you that Juno has nothing to do with this.”

“So you admit that you do!”

“Well, no, I have nothing to do with it either.”

“ _Juno_ , huh,” Cassandra said. “Sounds like you two are pretty close, eh?”

“Enough,” Min said clearly. It carried across the table, cold and commanding, and everyone froze. “Security, take Mister Rose to the dungeon.”

“Wait!” Juno shouted, loud enough that everyone turned to look at him. Juno cleared his throat and met Nureyev’s eyes. They were the same clear, bright eyes that he remembered, the same eyes he had grown to trust.

“Rose can’t have taken the mask,” Juno said. “He wasn’t in his room last night.”

“Oh?” Min asked, in a voice that promised death.

Juno couldn’t look at Nureyev as he said, “He can’t have taken the mask, because he was in my room, all night. With...me.”

Cecil screamed. Cassandra snarled a curse. Min’s smile grew wide and predatory, and she said, “Thank you for your honesty, Steel.” She looked at the guards. “You can take him to the dungeons as well then, for good measure.”

“But we didn’t _do_ anything!” Juno protested.

“That’s what all criminals say,” Min answered dismissively. “All you have told me is that you know each other’s secrets, and that hardly persuades me to consider either of you innocent. Now, I’ll deal with both of you in the morning.”

Juno’s arms were bent behind his back as two men whose necks were thicker than Juno’s waist grabbed him. Two equally large guards grabbed Nureyev and handcuffed him.

“You don’t have to cuff me,” Juno snapped. “I can walk there myself.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Threats are made and compromises are come to

The Kanagawas had, at some point, the foresight to build a dungeon into the basement level of their mansion, below the museum. Juno and Nureyev were led past several creative torture devices as they walked, which Juno chose not to consider too deeply, before they reached a series of small cells. The two were placed on opposite ends of the long hallway, with several empty cells between them.

The guards threw Juno into his and locked it behind him. “We’ll be watching you,” one of them cackled before they left.

His enclosure was small, but it had a separate bathroom with a door that shut and a bed with a blanket, which was more hospitable than Juno would have expected from a family such as the Kanagawas were. It was a reminder that this was not, in fact, a genuine prison but instead a place to house those who became involved in family drama, or as a set for one of Cecil’s more creative game shows. A prominent security camera in the top corner was another reminder of the fact, and Juno made a rude gesture at it.

There was a trapdoor set into the floor, with narrow strips of plexiglass window set into it, and they made it painfully clear that the only thing that separated Juno from plummeting down to the Martian surface was the floor he stood on. He glanced at the camera, and then at the bed, and then he dragged the blanket onto the floor to cover up the windows.

With nothing else to do, he settled onto the bare mattress and waited.

“Juno?” Peter’s faint voice echoed down the cell block.

“Yeah, Nu—Rose?”

“I am sorry you got mixed up in this.”

“Did you do it?”

A beat of silence. “No, I didn’t.”

“I want to believe you, but—” But the way he had looked at that mask was burned into Juno’s mind; as were the fake passports, the name change, and the fact that his adopted father was guilty of identity theft, at the very least. He couldn’t say any of that, not with the security camera staring him down.

“Why did you lie for me?”

“I don’t think you did it,” Juno said. “Or I don’t want you to have done it. Or… I don’t know. I didn’t want you to end up here, locked in some Kanagawa fun house.”

Nureyev laughed, and it made Juno’s chest hurt. “I can make my own mistakes.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

There was a long silence in which neither of them spoke, and which Juno’s feelings threatened to overwhelm him, and then Nureyev said his name again, softly. “Juno?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Juno didn’t answer, utterly at a loss for something sufficient to say. He didn’t know that it mattered, when the next day they would be at Min Kanagawa’s mercy. He could only hope that the police, or someone sympathetic, would be here soon, and then they both could explain what had gone wrong. He could only hope that Nureyev would tell the right truth.

* * *

Juno was woken early in the morning by a security guard slamming his door open. He blinked awake to see Min, diminutive and terrifying, backlit by the hallway fluorescents.

“Good morning to you, too,” he grumbled.

“It absolutely isn’t.” Min strode into the cell. She wore a white suit over a blood red shirt today, and carried a black briefcase so shiny the Juno could have done his makeup in it.

“Well, I’m feeling hopeful about my chances. If you were going to kill me, you wouldn’t have worn that white suit.”

She raised one black eyebrow. “Don’t push your luck, Steel.”

“I don’t have much left to push.”

She didn’t dignify him with a response. She turned to her guard. “Give us some privacy,” she commanded, in a voice that left no room for argument.

The door slid shut behind him.

“Make yourself at home,” Juno said. “I’d offer you a chair, but, well, you outfitted the cell.”

“You’ve really embarrassed yourself now,” Min said, as if he hadn’t spoken. “An affair with a known criminal? That’s low, even for an army traitor like you.”

Juno groaned. “He’s not a criminal, or if he is I don’t know anything about it.” He kept his voice low, so it wouldn’t carry to Nureyev’s end of the hallway.

“We found the mask in his room, Mister Steel, I don’t know what other evidence you need.”

“Someone must have planted it there.”

“Could they have planted these, too?” Min pulled two passports from her briefcase and offered one to Juno. He took it with his heart in his throat.

It was for Duke Rose, from Brahma.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Juno said. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

Min handed him the second one. Duke Rose, from Mars.

Juno shrugged. “Why don’t you tell me what this means?”

“What this means, Mister Steel, is that Cecil has two new volunteers for his gameshow. I think we have good evidence that you provided a false alibi for your friend, and threw Cecil’s feeling in his face while you were at it.”

Juno took a minute to let his world spin while he formulated a comeback. It wasn’t a great one.

“You can’t put me on Cecil’s gameshow. I’m a member of the aristocracy, and that comes with privileges.”

“I can if you sign the paperwork,” Min’s smile was smug. “Which you don’t have to, of course. I have a different contract that I think you might prefer.” She passed him a contract the size of a novel.

Juno scanned it quickly, but he didn’t really need to.

“I’m not going to marry Cecil.”

“Oh? You would rather feature on tonight’s episode of From the Jaws of Death?”

“No, I’m going to refuse to sign anything you hand me. Also, I want a lawyer.” He handed the contract back.

“You can’t afford a lawyer, Mister Steel.”

“I have friends who can buy one for me.”

Min returned the contract to her briefcase and shut it with a decisive snap. She tapped her talons against the patent leather. “Here are your options. You can marry Cecil, and we can forget this whole nonsense with Duke Rose ever happened, or you can refuse my generous offer, and you can both feature on the Jaws of Death tonight, where at least one of you will make it out alive. If neither of those are to your liking, your charming friend will be sent to the shark tank, and I will prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law.”

Juno swallowed. “If I marry Cecil… you’ll let Rose go?”

Min laughed. “Oh, no, if you marry Cecil, we’ll make sure Rose dies painlessly.”

“I won’t do it then.”

“You won’t get Rose back, so I advise you to take the easiest path.”

“You can’t blackmail me into marrying Cecil!”

“You’ll be able to comfort each other; he’s devastated about Rose’s betrayal too.”

“You don’t even have proof that he stole the mask! I told you he was with me--”

“We have plenty of proof, Mister Steel. Refusing to acknowledge the existence of it will not make it disappear.”

“You need to call the police.”

Min arched an eyebrow. “Duke Rose has no true identity. I _need_ to do nothing.”

“He—” Juno stopped himself. Revealing Nureyev’s true name might save him from the Kanagawas, but the chances were slim, when it was clear that Min had made up her mind. Juno had promised to keep his identity a secret, and that was the only sure thing right now.

Juno clenched his jaw. “You are not above the law.”

“On the contrary, you will find that our money affords us certain privileges. Now, Steel, I have a show to plan, and you have a reputation to protect, a lot of debt to clear. You are too old to expect a marriage proposal from anyone else, so I advise you make the right decision.”

The words were a punch to Juno’s gut. He had almost no chance to marry; he was old and worn out and disgraced, and yet, he was also intimately aware that Nureyev was also unmarried, and unattached.

Peter Nureyev still made Juno feel like life was worth living, and Juno had no one else left in his life who could stir such feelings in him. He could not imagine living the rest of his life with someone who couldn’t instill that hope in him, not when he knew Nureyev was nearby.

“I may have no hope of marriage, you’re right. I may have lost my only chance at love, I will regret that for the rest of my life, but that doesn’t mean I am so desperate as to pretend at it with someone else. I will not become that kind of lady, and certainly not for you and your ratings, no matter how much you blackmail me.”

“You would risk the life of the man you love for your pride?”

“I’ll take my chances.”

If Juno signed a marriage contract, he would belong to the Kanagawas forever, and Nureyev would probably die. If he walked away, Nureyev would definitely die.

If he agreed to play Cecil’s game with Nureyev, then maybe they could both make it out alive.

He swallowed down bile. “I’ll be on Cecil’s show.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The games begin

Juno had no way to measure how time passed in his cell. There was no clock, and he refused to look out the window in the floor to see the color of the light outside. Instead, he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling and tried his best not to think.

Cecil arrived with a team of makeup artists and an entire portable makeup studio eventually. He started in Nureyev’s cell, and his voice carried down the hallway in a way Nureyev’s didn’t.

“I really wish you had agreed to be in my show under different circumstances, but I just know you’re going to be fantastic.”

Nureyev’s response was inaudible.

“Well, it doesn’t matter how violent it gets, you must look fabulous anyway. I’m starting with you because you already know how to do your own makeup, so it’s just a touch up. Junebug is an absolute disaster with it. My only comfort is that people will find his scars dashing instead of distracting. We must play up his war record, after all. I had to do his makeup for the ball, too, you know.”

A pause while Nureyev answered.

“He did look fabulous, didn’t he? Really makes a boy’s heart flutter. And those arms. I’ve been trying to get him onto my show for ages. I just don’t understand why he resisted me for so long; he’ll be such a star.”

Either Cecil didn’t understand what strings Min had pulled, or he was willfully ignoring them, it was hard to tell. It didn’t really matter, in the end. Even if Juno could have gotten Cecil on his side, Min wouldn’t have taken any argument from him. Juno was on his own.

He stayed quiet through the makeup artist’s time with him and barely listened to Cecil’s chattering. He didn’t want to hear Cecil’s advice on how to make the camera catch his good angles, and he didn’t want to hear advice on making money through streams. He wanted the whole Kanagawa Empire to go down in flames, and to escape somewhere quiet with Nureyev and forget about every part of his life that had brought him here.

Had it really only been a week since his mother had left?

“Now, Junebug, I want you to listen closely, because this is an insider secret.”

Juno closed his eye and tried to ignore him.

“When you get to the Organ Shaker, the floor drops every sixth second and then there’s an extra drop after three seconds on every third cycle. Got it?”

“Sure, yeah.”

“Someone broke their leg last week and the screams were amazing for ratings, but if you get too hurt you won’t be able to make it through the _guillotine de catastrophe_ and that means you’ll miss out on the finale—turn your head, I need to get your eyeliner just right so if you cry when you get gassed it runs dramatically enough. Oh and can you try to turn your eyepatch towards the camera as often as you can? I need to remind the audience that you’re a war hero.”

“’m not a war hero,” Juno muttered, which was very difficult because Cecil was now blending foundation on his jawline.

“Of course you are. You fought at that… one really big battle.”

Juno grunted. He’d fought at a few of them, he supposed.

“Which one was it? The one with the really long name?”

“Epsilon Eridanus Shamash.”

“Yes, that one! Cass and I watched the parade, you know.”

Ben had been in that homecoming parade. Juno had received a red star for his service at the ceremony.

“You know, preparing to fight a deadly obstacle course doesn’t make me want to relive the past,” Juno said. “In fact, it’s doing the opposite.”

“It isn’t deadly, Juno. Only one person has actually died so far. This isn’t shark tank.”

“My mistake. Preparing to fight an obstacle likely to maim me doesn’t make me want to relive the past.”

“I’m done with your makeup,” Cecil changed the subject cheerily.

“Great,” Juno pushed himself up, but Cecil put a hand on his arm and leaned in close to whisper.

“Did Duke really steal Daddy’s mask?”

“What am I, a detective?”

“No, but if you two are sleeping together—and if you are, I am so mad at you—then you would know the truth. And Cassandra is out for blood.”

A suspicion settled into Juno’s bones. He shook his head. “I don’t think so, but Min seems convinced.”

“Well, what if she’s wrong?”

Juno considered, and finally asked slowly, “What do you think happened?”

Cecil looked away. For the first time, his smile slipped. “I think… I asked him to come to my room last night, and he said he had something important to do. I’ve watched cop shows, I know that isn’t airtight evidence, but… Junebug, it was either you or him or you both together, and I know you wouldn’t do it.”

“That’s it? You don’t think there are any other suspects?”

“Everyone else is too scared of Daddy—”

A loud bell rang.

“Oh! That’s time! I have to run. You’ll do fabulous Junebug, I know you will!” Cecil planted a sloppy kiss on Juno’s cheek. “Break a leg! Or maybe don’t!”

He swept out in a cloud of glitter and perfume, laughing at his own joke.

* * *

Juno and Nureyev were put into a small white room made up of six identical surfaces of semi reflective plastic. If Juno had not seen the door slide shut behind them, he would never have known an exit existed. Cecil’s voice piped in, announcing them as contestants for the night.

“These two lovers will perhaps be ripped apart by the blade of fate tonight… or perhaps the pressure of my obstacle course will only drive them apart! We won’t know until we watch. I’ve added a new obstacle for all you lovely viewers tonight, so stick around for the second half!”

A digital clock blinked into life in one of the walls and began to count down from thirty.

“Juno,” Nureyev’s voice was low and urgent, “How likely are we to die during this event?”

“We should be okay if we stick together.”

He nodded. “Did you… mean what you said, to Min? That you regretted leaving me?”

“You heard that?”

Nureyev nodded, minutely. His lips were pressed together and his gaze was fixed straight ahead.

Hell, there was no reason not to tell him.

“How could I not, Nureyev? I walked away because my mother told me to, and I—it was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

Another minute nod. Then Peter blinked, and Juno saw that his eyes were over-bright.

“Then I’m glad I came back to Mars, even if I did get framed.”

The wall in front of them slid open to reveal the first obstacle in Cecil’s game. Nureyev’s knuckles brushed his. The mere second of contact was like an electric surge through his body. Juno glanced down, his heart already in his throat. Nureyev slipped him a small piece of paper, folded over and over. Juno took it and tucked it into his fist. Then the floor tilted under him, and he was forced to walk forward into the arena.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A game show host. A letter. A TV moment.

The arena was filled with a mess of ladders and tunnels. To their right was a door, and in front of them was a small podium with a blaster gun on it.

“What’s this?” Nureyev asked. Juno barely heard him. The letter burned in his hand. He wanted to run back into that sterile white room and read it; he wanted to grab Nureyev and kiss him and see if he kissed back.

The floor shook.

“Now, my little lovebirds, the game has begun! Pick up the gun and shoot the target. The target will release the key and let you proceed to the next level.”

“Cecil, you bastard!” Juno shouted.

Cecil’s laughter was high and delighted. “Don’t blame me, this challenge wasn’t my idea.”

“I seem to recall—” Nureyev turned to look at Juno and closed his mouth.

Juno had no inclination to play by the rules from the beginning, but all sympathy he had for Cecil had now vanished. He pushed Nureyev’s letter into his pocket and seized the blaster. “This was Min’s idea,” he growled softly.

“I could do it,” Nureyev offered.

“No, this was meant for me. War hero and all.” The words were a bitter reminder in his mouth. He wanted to leave that title behind, like he wanted to leave the memories behind. Juno took aim, and fired too far to the left.

Cecil’s laugh echoed over the speaker. “Only two blasts left. If you can’t unlock the door, you will need to go through the hedge maze—and you might not make it through before this chamber fills with poisonous gas!”

Juno fired again, on the target but slightly to the right.

“We can go through the maze.”

“Be quiet, I’m focusing.”

The third shot hit the target. The canned audience track let out a loud groan. Juno snatched the key and ran to the door. He could feel Nureyev right behind him.

“I’m not going to get a chance to read that letter,” he muttered as he jiggled the door handle and cursed the analog keys.

“Well, I can’t say what’s in it aloud with so many cameras around.”

Juno cursed under his breath as the door finally swung open. They ducked through the doorway to be greeted by an enormous mechanized body, several inches taller than Juno. Its face was a large camera, the lens extended so it was inches from Juno’s face. The lens clicked and whirred and retreated, presumably so it could frame both of them in the shot.

“Gentlemen, meet your new companion!” Cecil’s distant voice told them. “He’s a new prototype of mine, guaranteed to get all your most flattering angles!”

Nureyev seemed to shrink behind Juno, but he was too tall for it to really be an effective movement.

“This camera man is designed to duck and weave in between the swinging blades as you do!” Cecil told them. “Now, make your way between the blades to the door at the far end of the hallway.”

Enormous curved blades swung from the ceiling and across the corridor in an inconsistent pattern. It was easy to determine the objective of this challenge; they were simply expected to find the pattern and dodge the blades. However, finding the pattern proved to be more difficult.

Nureyev cast an eye at the ceiling., where bundles of wires were stretched across it.

“What are you thinking?” Juno asked.

“I am thinking that one of those wires is connected to the blades, and if I cut them, I can turn them off.”

“The ceiling is too high.”

“I believe, if you were to give me a boost, I could reach.”

“You want me to be a stepstool?”

“Would you rather we traverse the swinging blades?”

Juno grimaced, and then sat on the ground, cross-legged and braced himself against the sterile, white wall. Nureyev toed off his shoes and produced a plasma box cutter from a nearly invisible pocket. He, too, braced himself against the wall and then stepped up onto Juno’s shoulders. He wasn’t nearly as heavy as an adult man of his height should be, but it was still an ungainly arrangement.

Juno took the opportunity to pull the letter from his pocket and unfold it carefully.

 

_Juno,_

_I am sitting here in my cell and listening to you speak to Mrs. Kanagawa and can bear it no longer. It seems as if you are speaking directly to me, but I have no way to reply. I have forced myself, these long days, not to hope for you, for to even entertain the idea was an agony. I meant only to fulfil my business here and be gone from you again, but I could not bring myself to leave your presence. Now I beg you to tell me that I do not hope in vain. I assure you, you have not lost your chance at love. I may have been unjust to you, and cruel or distant in actions, but my feelings have not lessened. I have loved none but you._

_I can barely hear your voice now, but I would know even the tones when hidden behind walls. Tell me I may hope, and I will stay with you through whatever is planned for us. I will carry you away to the stars if you only give me the word. It would be the adventure both of us longed for._

_Your better half,_

_Peter Nureyev_

When Juno looked up, the blades had stopped swinging, and half the lights in the corridor were out.

“Juno?” There was real fear in Nureyev’s voice, soft and thin.

“Yeah?” Juno’s voice came out rough.

“May I come down now?”

“Yeah.” His voice broke. There were no words for the waves of happiness now coursing through him, no way for him to contain the emotions that swamped him. He had reason again to go forward, to hope for the future. All these years, Nureyev had remembered how Juno had longed for the stars, and Nureyev had now handed them to Juno in one letter that radiated forgiveness and love.

Nureyev stepped down, and offered Juno a hand to help him up. “Shall we…continue?” he asked.

Juno took the offered hand. Their skin pressed together; Nureyev’s hand was smooth and warm in Juno’s. Juno climbed to his feet, their point of contact an anchor. He lifted his untethered hand and slowly placed it against Nureyev’s chest, just over his heart. When his touch wasn’t pushed away, he said slowly, “I…” he could barely speak. “I couldn’t even hope—”

“Just tell me. Will you?”

“Yes! Yes, I’ll—”

Nureyev lifted a hand to Juno’s face and wiped away a tear.

They were interrupted by a loud clicking noise as a cameraman drew closer to them, extended lens inches from their faces.

“Would you look at that, folks?” Cecil asked. “Love in the middle of danger! Nothing like a little death to bring people together! I hope I’m invited to the wedding!”

“Shall we get out of this stupid game?” Nureyev asked.

“Just leave?”

Nureyev nodded.

“I need one thing from you, first, and I need you to be honest.”

“Anything, Juno.”

“Did you take the mask?”

“If I had, would I have been stupid enough to hide it in my room?”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Nureyev cupped Juno’s face in his hands and met his eyes seriously. “I did not steal Grim’s Mask,” he assured him.

“Good,” Juno said. “Good, I thought so. Let’s go.”

Nureyev stepped away and returned to the wall Juno had sat against. He ran his fingers along the edges of the panel. After a minute of searching, a door popped open.

“Did you know that was there the whole time?”

“No, I noticed it while I was cutting the wires.”

“But you didn’t open it?”

“I didn’t want to interrupt you.” He reached out a hand to Juno.

Taking it felt like the beginning of something new. Nureyev wound his fingers through Juno’s and gave his hand a little squeeze. Juno followed him through the door and into a service corridor that probably existed only for servants and cameramen to get around. The cameraman followed them, and Juno saw another one at the end of the hall, moving towards them.

“Now, hang on!” Cecil’s voice cried out. “You can’t leave in the middle of a show.”

“Sure I can,” Juno said, to nowhere.

“You signed a contract! You said—”

“I signed a contract on the assumption that Duke Rose stole something, but he didn’t. Now, cut the feeds before I spill your family’s dirty laundry for the world to see.”

“Now that’s just good television,” Cecil argued. “Aren’t I right, folks?”

The canned audience cheered.

Juno glanced at Nureyev. “We need to get to wherever Cassandra is.”

He nodded. “I quite agree.”

They took the empty arm of the corridor. The cameraman stuck its clawed fingers into the walls and climbed up the wall, across the ceiling, and dropped down in front of them, clicking all the while.

“Should we run?” Nureyev asked.

“We could try,” Juno muttered, but there was another camera at the other end of the hallway, and they would be caught eventually.

“Don’t be so fast, kiddos. You’ve betrayed me and ruined my game, and I need something in return. Give the audience what they want to see!”

“What do they—” Juno broke off.

Nureyev’s smile said clearly that he was planning something devious, and Juno’s stomach lurched with nervous anticipation.

“This is for you, Cecil,” Nureyev said. “To thank you for your generous hospitality.” He slipped his free hand around Juno’s waist to bring them face to face. The smile he gave Juno warned him his plan a second before it happened, but Juno didn’t protest. Instead, he wrapped an arm around the back of Nureyev’s neck and melted into his touch.

The kiss was everything he had been waiting for. Nureyev moved slowly, caressing Juno’s lips with his own, one hand pressed against Juno’s back to steady him. Juno felt like he was floating, buoyed up by the knowledge that he had a future with the man holding him. Nureyev bent him backwards into a theatrical dip, lips never leaving Juno’s, and Juno let go of his hand to wrap his other arm around Nureyev’s shoulders. When he slipped his fingers into Nureyev’s hair, he let out a soft moan.

After what might have been a lifetime of kisses, Nureyev pulled back and set Juno upright.

“Do you think that was enough for Cecil?” He whispered, lips brushing against Juno’s cheek.

Juno had nearly forgotten that they were on live TV. “Was that your only motivation?”

Nureyev laughed and kissed Juno again. This time there was more urgency, a hungry edge as his lips pressed harder and his fingers tightened against Juno’s back. Juno lifted a hand and put it over the camera lens before he opened his mouth under Nureyev and fisted a hand in his shirt. This time, when Nureyev pulled back, Juno laughed too, because his chest was so full that there was nothing to do but laugh.

“No, darling, I’ve wanted to do that since I first stepped out of the car and saw you standing in your garden. I simply took advantage of my opportunities.”

Juno pulled him down for one last, lingering kiss, and then whispered, “Let’s go find Cassandra.”

“Mm, justice. You really know how to seduce a man.”

“I thought I already had.”

“That is quite possible.” For a moment, Nureyev looked like he was going to kiss Juno again, but then he straightened up and stepped back. Cold air rushed in between them, but Nureyev took a firm hold of Juno’s hand. “If we continue, I think I may not be able to stop.” As they walked down the hallway, the cameraman remained at a respectful distance, which left Juno satisfied that they had placated it and Cecil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter! I've been waiting to post that letter since the very beginning.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Juno tells them all how it was done.

Min waited for them at the end of the service corridor.

“What do you think that was, besides a flagrant breach of contract,” she demanded.

“I think I realized that everything you built the contract on was a lie,” Juno growled. “Which makes the terms null and void. Where is Cassandra?”

“She’s preparing to leave. Croesus found a Martian throne that he wants purchased, and he’s sending her to negotiate.”

“You may want to stop her,” Juno said. “Seeing as she stole the Mask of Grimpoteuthis.”

“Well now you’re just making things up.” Min flapped her hand at the cameraman. “Go back to whatever hole you came from, you disgusting machine.”

The machine made small, sad beeping noises.

“Oh?” Juno said archly. “Let’s go find her and ask.”

“That’s—”

Juno walked forward, past Min. “It’s okay, I know where her room is. Thanks for your help, Min.”

“I—” The clicking of Min’s heels told him that he was being followed. It didn’t bother him. Nureyev kept pace beside him as they wound their way up two stories to Cassandra’s room. She answered the door with her arms full of clothes.

“Juno! And—oh…” she said. “I didn’t realize the show was over already.”

Juno pushed past her into the room, barely sparing a glance at the mess. “We cancelled the show. Now, do you want to tell Min how your father’s mask ended up in Rose’s room?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Really? Let me explain.” Juno glanced at Min to make sure she was listening. “See, the way I see it, you didn’t like Rose from the minute he showed up. You wanted to be Daddy’s favorite, and Rose got in the way.”

“It wasn’t about favoritism, he took my job!”

“So you admit, you were angry at him?”

“That’s not the point.”

Juno gave Min a pointed look. “Cass came to me and asked me to dig up dirt on Rose. I didn’t think I would find anything, but I looked into it.” Juno shrugged. “It was worth a shot, right? I saw him looking at the mask, so I asked Cass for details about it. She couldn’t tell me anything either. As far as I can tell, it’s an expensive piece of art that would be impossible to sell on the black market because it’s one of a kind.”

“He’s right about that,” Nureyev said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Juno nodded in acknowledgement. “I think Cass wanted me to say Rose was planning on stealing it. That would be exactly the kind of evidence she needed to get him arrested. Or, as it turns out, killed, because you all seem to operate above the law.”

“You’ll notice he’s still alive,” Min said coldly.

“Oh, that makes it all better, sure,” Juno snapped. “The point is that I had no evidence that Rose was planning on stealing anything, so Cass had to take matters into her own hands and frame him.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Cassandra snarled. “You have no proof!”

Juno shrugged. “I know that no one would be foolish enough to steal the mask and then hide it in their own room without an escape plan.”

“People can be stupid,” Min said.

“That is true, but what does Rose gain from stealing it? It would cause a collapse of his entire art dealing business, not to mention that his father would be implicated, and then he would have a mask he couldn’t sell. What does Cass get out of framing him? She gets her job back and a rival out of her way. I thought she seemed a little eager to accuse him as soon as the mask went missing, but then I knew for sure when I realized that she could have accused me, because I have just as much motive.”

“No you don’t,” Cassandra said quickly.

“I do. I’m in debt up to my eyeballs, and Min has been trying to pressure me into marrying Cecil since I got here.”

Nureyev shot Juno a confused look. Juno ignored him.

“With Rose out of the way, Cecil wouldn’t have a distraction that might prevent him from agreeing to a marriage with me. That would work out well for Min, so she took Cass’ accusation at face value to get rid of Rose.” Juno allowed himself a soft smile. “Of course, Min never guessed that I was just as distracted by Rose as Cecil was.”

“I had nothing to do with this.”

“You never do, Min. You just point everyone in the right direction and watch them go. After all, who told Cass that her job was on the line?”

“I just needed her to know what contracts were available to her.”

“So you did tell her.”

“This is ridiculous!” Cass shrieked. “What about the fake passports? You can’t explain those away!”

“Two fake passports, both for a Duke Rose. It is strange indeed. I can explain it, but maybe Rose would rather?”

Nureyev spread his hands innocently. “I admit, it does appear rather shady, but it is all official. I am originally from Brahma, but when Atlas Rose adopted me I was allowed to become a citizen of Mars. That’s all it was.”

Cass glared. “You still have no proof that I did it.”

“I don’t really need it,” Juno said. “All I need to do is prove that Rose didn’t do it. The rest of it is up to you. Now, if it’s all the same to you, I’m going back to my room.”

When he and Nureyev left, Min didn’t stop them.

* * *

Juno led Nureyev to his room and locked the door. The look Nureyev gave him made his pulse quicken, but he refused to give in.

“I need answers,” he said.

“I think you just provided a lot of them yourself.”

Juno shook his head. “No, I gave the Kanagawas enough information to get them off your back, but I know you better than they do. I know you were Peter Nureyev once, and I know you changed your name, and I know Atlas Rose is also a fake name.”

“You investigated me?”

“Cass asked me too, and I was curious. You sweep in here with a new identity and new money and try to rent my estate? Of course I’m going to look into it.”

“I’m surprised you found anything,” he said musingly. “Mag is very good at his job.”

“Rita is better.”

Nureyev nodded. “Ah, yes, that explains a lot.”

“So explain to me what you were thinking with this whole convoluted scheme.”

Nureyev sat in the desk chair, long legs stretched out in front of him, and began to talk.

“After you left me, I felt a burning desire to leave the outer rim, and to make something of myself. Not in hopes of earning you back, at least I told myself that, but my poverty had suddenly become a burden I could no longer bear. So I began to buy and sell home goods. It was an easy job, moving between planets under the protection of a shipping company. And I made a commission on my sales, so I learned to be charming.”

Juno snorted. As if Nureyev had ever needed to learn that.

Nureyev’s answering smile told him that he knew Juno’s thoughts. “I was slowly building a clientele. And then I met Atlas Rose. He thought I had potential, and he had connections on the terrestrial planets, which are infinitely wealthier. At first, I had no idea that he was working under a manufactured identity. When I found out, and confronted him, he explained that he used the Rose name to make connections in places where an aristocratic name meant something. He didn’t kill anyone to get the name, if that’s what you were worried about.”

Juno nodded. That was a relief, though he hadn’t really worried about it. Art theft was a far cry from murder.

“He created me an identity as his son, and it did help. You may not understand, you have always been heir to a large estate, but the respect I now received was palpably different. I became too addicted to it to question what we were doing. I cannot always vouch for where our clients found their sculptures, but I can promise that it was only the rich selling to other rich men. Nothing we did took food out of other men’s mouths.”

He stopped speaking and watched Juno expectantly. He was worried, truly, that Juno would be angry. Juno swallowed. “I fought in a war for ten years, Nureyev. I can’t judge what another person did to survive it.”

Nureyev’s eyes went soft. “You were fighting for your planet.”

Juno shrugged. “I thought so, once. Tell me how you came to Mars.”

“I had no idea our destination was Hyperion City, or I might have told Atlas no. He came for the reasons he told you; Croesus Kanagawa wanted to expand his collection of art. And we have money now, enough that Atlas wanted to slow down. Interplanetary travel is exciting, but he is getting older. I think he would like to stay in one gravitational range for more than a month.”

Juno exhaled. “So you’re staying?”

“I aim to be wherever you want me, Juno.”

The way he said Juno’s name was intense enough to make him shiver. There were a dozen meanings wrapped up in those two syllables.

“I just want to be with you,” Juno said. “I don’t—my view of my family has changed.”

“What happened?”

Juno told him everything. He told him about Benzaiten, and how he blamed himself, and how his mother blamed him. He told him about his debts, and how he sent his mother away in order to rent the estate, and how he wanted nothing more than to disappear into the stars with Nureyev, away from his mother’s anger and the responsibilities that now felt only like burdens. While he spoke, Nureyev took his hands and held them, a tether of support for him.

When Juno finished, Nureyev pulled him into a tight embrace. Juno relaxed into it.

“Sell the estate to Atlas,” he suggested. “Then we’ll both be free.”

“I can’t,” Juno said. “My mother—”

Nureyev pulled back, and held Juno’s face in his hands. He looked deadly serious. “Then marry me. I have money, I can pay your debts.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask, I offered.”

“I can’t—I need to fix this myself.”

He nodded. “I wouldn’t love you if you didn’t take all the responsibility for yourself.”

“Say that again.”

Nureyev’s smile was so beautiful that Juno’s chest ached. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Juno echoed.

This kiss was gentle, a promise of many more kisses to come. “Marry me, Juno Steel,” Nureyev murmured. “I’ll need a business partner if Atlas means to retire, and we can run away to the stars together. Please say you will.”

Nureyev offered Juno everything he had ever wanted in the palm of his hand: adventure, and purpose, and independence, and a love so obvious that Juno was dizzy with it. He could barely speak past the lump in his throat, past the anticipation of their future.

“Yes, Peter. Yes, I will marry you.”

* * *

With Juno entirely assured of Nureyev’s affection for him, and Nureyev’s enthusiastic desire to be wed, they moved forward quickly with their domestic plans. Juno was determined to ignore all efforts to persuade him towards other courses of action, and so their wedding was arranged with great haste.

Sarah Steel, though still disapproving of Juno’s choices and circumstances, could not deny that Nureyev was a wise match for him, and she eventually quieted her complaints. She observed, with a tone of great generosity, that Nureyev’s superior looks perhaps made up in some way for Juno’s superior title.

While Cecil’s jealousy inclined him towards anger, his delight in the dramatic events of Juno’s engagement smoothed over any potential violence from him. The rest of the Kanagawas were less forgiving; while Cassandra had other things to worry about, Min spent a good deal of time upbraiding Juno for his choices, his behavior, and his lack of respect for her family name. None of her words could in any way tarnish Juno’s near-delirious happiness.

There were less people inclined to support their good fortune than to criticize it, but Rita and Atlas showered Juno and Nureyev with more enthusiastic affection than any happy couple required.

It pained Juno to expose Nureyev to the abuses of his mother, but he seemed to not even notice her comments, too caught up in planning the festivities with Rita. At night, once Juno and Nureyev were alone, he did nothing to comment except to whisper praises into Juno’s skin and promise to whisk him away to the stars.

Juno had expected to see the wedding as nothing but a formality, an obstacle between him and his freedom with Nureyev, but when he joined Nureyev at the altar and saw him in his white tuxedo, Juno began to weep. He remembered almost nothing about the ceremony or the reception except for the way Nureyev looked at him, eyes soft and bright. Nureyev held his hand even while they ate dinner, and Juno would rather have gone hungry than pull away.

There would be no prestige or glory in being the husband of an art dealer, but there would be peace in being the husband of Peter Nureyev, and redemption, and hope. Juno held those feelings close as they slipped out of the reception early and into their future together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! To the people who left comments along the way, and the people who got here in one sitting, thank you. 
> 
> There is a sequel to this, "Forms of Synergy." It's going up simultaneously and being put into a series, but it earned a soft M rating so I'll keep it separate. I didn't want to falsely represent this chaste little romance I just wrote (: 
> 
> If you liked this and haven't read Jane Austen, I highly recommend Persuasion, the book this AU is based on. Pride and Prejudice is funnier, but Persuasion has more romantic tension (and is a lot shorter). 
> 
> If you want to talk to me about either of my two loves, Juno Steel or Jane Austen, pioneer of the reverse Bechdel tests, I'm alecjmarsh on tumblr. I also post fan art over there.


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